
,0^ s'^ \^ '/^ "C' 






^^ '"^ '^yi 






V- 







HE SOUTH 
is a land that 
has known 
sorrows; it is 
a land that has broken 
the ashen crust and 
moistened it with its 
tears; a land scarred and 
riven by the plowshare 
of war and billowed with 
the graves of her dead ; 
but a land of legend j a 
land of song, a land of 
hallowed and heroic 
memories. 



Edward Ward Carmack. 



SOUTHERN 

LITERARY 
READINGS 



Edited 
WITH INTRODUCTION, 
NOTES, BIOGRAPHICAL 
SKETCHES, AND SOME 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS 

By 

LEONIDAS WARREN pAYNE, Jr. 

A djunct Professor of English in the University 
of Texas 



RAND McNALLY & COMPANY 

Chicago New York London 






Copyright, 1913 
By Leonid AS Warren Payne, Jr. 



Chicago 



. /'7^ 



ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

All rights to the selections named in the following list 
are reserved by the owners of the copyright, or their pub- 
lishers or other representatives, from whom permission 
for use in Southern Literary Readings has been secured. 

James Lane Allen: Earth Shield and Earth Festival, from 
The Bride of the Mistletoe. Copyright, 1909, by The Macmillan 
Company, Publishers. Madison Cawein: The Old Water-mill; 
Zyps of Zirl; from Myth and Romance. Copyright, 1899, by G. P. 
Putnam's Sons, Publishers. Seasons; Sounds and Sights; from New 
Poems. Grant Richards, Publisher, 1909. William Lawrence 
Chittenden: The Ranchman's Ride; Old Fort Phantom Hill; from 
Ranch Verses. Copyright, 1893, by G. P. Putnam's Sons, Publishers. 
Charles Egbert Craddock: Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County 
Fair; from The Mystery of Witch-face Mountain, and Other Stories. 
Copyright, 1895, by Mary N. Murfree. Houghton, Mifflin & Com- 
pany, Publishers. Hilton Ross Greer: A Prairie Prayer; A Mock- 
bird Matinee; from A Prairie Prayer, and Other Poems. Copyright, 
19 1 2, by Sherman, French & Company, PubHshers. Joel Chandler 
Harris: The Tale of the Crystal Bell, from Wally Wander oon and 
His Story-telling Machine. Copyright, 1903, by Joel Chandler Harris 
and S. S. McClure Company. McClure, Phillips & Co., Publishers. 
Paul Hamilton Hayne: Lyric of Action; Aethra; Great Poets and 
Small; Poets; My Study; To Henry W. Longfellow; The Mocking- 
bird amid Yellow Jasmine; from Poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne, 
Copyright, 1882, by D. Lothrop & Co. Lothrop, Lee & Shepard, 
sttocessors to D. Lothrop & Co., Publishers. O. Henry: The Gift 
of the Magi. Copyright, 1905, by Press Publishing Company. 
Copyright, 1906, by Doubleday, Page & Company, Publishers. A 
Chaparral Prince, from Heart of the West. Copyright, 1907, by 
Doubleday, Page & Company, Publishers. Sidney Lanier: Song 
of the Chattahoocliee; A Ballad of Trees and the Master; My 
Springs; Stanzas from "Corn"; from Poems of Sidney Lanier. 
Copyright, 19 12, by Mary D. Lanier. Charles Scribner's Sons, 
Publishers. Three Letters, from Letters of Sidney Lanier. Selections 
from His Correspondence, 1 866-1 881. Copyright, 1899, by Mary 
Day Lanier. Charles Scribner's Sons, PubHshers. Samuel Minturn 
Peck: An Alabama Garden; The Grapevine Swing; from Rings 
and Love-knots. Copyright, 1892, by Frederick A. Stokes Company, 
Publishers. Albert Pike: Every Year, from General Albert Pike's 
Poems. Edited with Introduction by His Daughter, Mrs. Lilian Pike 

{v\ 



vi Acknowledgment 

Roome. Copyright, 1899, by Mrs. Roome and Fred AUsopp, Pub- 
lisher. Margaret Junkin Preston: Gone Forward; The Shade 
of the Trees; from Cartoons. Copyright, 1875, by Roberts Brothers, 
Publishers. The Color-bearer, from Old Songs and New. Copy- 
right, 1870, by J. B. Lippincott Company, Publishers. James 
Ryder Randall: Maryland! My Maryland! Pelham; fromPoew^ 
of James Ryder Randall. Edited by Matthew P. Andrews. Copy- 
right, 1910, by The Tandy-Thomas Co., Publishers. Irwin Russell: 
Christmas-night in the Quarters; Business in Mississippi; Mahsr 
John; Nebuchadnezzar; from Poems by Irwin Russell. Copyright, 
1888, by The Century Co., Publishers. Abram Joseph Ryan: The 
Conquered Banner; The Sword of Robert Lee; from Poems, Patriotic, 
Religious, Miscellaneous, by Abram J. Ryan. Copyright, 1896, by 
P. J. Kenedy & Sons, Publishers. Francis Hopkinson Smith: The 
One-legged Goose, from Colonel Carter of Carter sville. Copyright, 
1891, by F. Hopkinson Smith, and Houghton, Mifflin & Company, 
Publishers. Francis Orray Ticknor: Little Giffen, from The 
Poems of Francis Orray Ticknor. Edited and Collected by His 
Granddaughter Miss Michelle Cutliff Ticknor. Copyright, 191 1, 
by The Neale Publishing Company, Publishers. Henry Timrod: 
The Lily Confidante; Carolina; Storm and Calm; Ode Sung on the 
Occasion of Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Dead; from 
Poems of Henry Timrod. Copyright, 1899, by Miss Kate Lloyd. 
Used by special permission of the B. F. Johnson Publishing Com- 
pany, Richmond, Va., authorized publishers of Timrod's poems. 
Stark Young: Gordia, from The Blind Man at the Window, and 
Other Poems. Copyright, 1906, by Stark Young. Grafton Press.. 
Publishers. 



THE PREFACE 

This book is intended primarily to fill the break in 
reading that occurs between the grammar school and the 
first year of the high school, but it may be satisfactorily 
used in any of the grades from the seventh to the eleventh. 
The constant aim has been to select that in Southern 
literature which is best suited to the interests and attain- 
ments of young readers and to present it in such a way as 
to increase the appreciation of our girls and boys of the 
South for what to them, by virtue of its origin, means so 
much; and also to give most suggestion and rehef to the 
teachers of reading and literature in our Southern schools. 
A long teaching experience in the public schools from 
grammar grades to high school, in a normal school, and 
in the colleges of several Southern states, has given the 
editor an insight into our educational conditions and 
needs which has enabled him in a measure to meet the re- 
quirements of both pupils and teachers in respect to the 
apparatus necessary in a textbook intended as a reader 
and as an introduction to the study of literature. 

For the fullness of the notes and the thought questions 
no apology is offered. The editor is well aware that 
modem theoretical pedagogy has tabooed such an abun- 
dance of critical apparatus for schoolbooks; but having 
himself been through the grind of teaching in the crowded 
public schools of the South, he knows by actual experi- 
ence that unless immediate helps are provided the bulk 
of the work will remain undone. Because of the physical 
limitations of overtaxed teachers and the inadequate 
supply — nay, total absence — of critical material and refer- 
ence books in many of our schools, such helps are not only 
a grateful relief but an absolute necessity if anything like 
satisfactory work is to be done in interpretation. The 
notes and questions, placed as they are at the back of the 
book, may be ignored by those teachers who are so ade- 
quately equipped or so fortunately situated as to need no 

[vii] 



viii The Preface 

such apparatus; and here the pupil may constilt them at 
will for information and suggestion. But for the majority 
of our teachers the safest plan will be to make study 
assignments in the notes, selecting such exercises and 
questions as may best fit the needs and requirements of 
the special group of pupils in the several grades where the 
book may be used. 

The material is arranged in a loose chronological order 
according to authors, some attention being paid to variety 
in subject-matter and literary form. It has been thought 
unwise to group the material according to types of litera- 
ture, for two reasons. In the first place, the author 
always has been and the editor believes will continue to 
be the logical unit for literary study in the schools, and 
it is a distinct disadvantage to have a writer's works 
scattered here and there throughout the book. In the 
second place, to group the selections by types or kinds of 
compositions is to lose the opportunity for presenting the 
historical development of our literature as a whole, and 
to impair the knowledge of its continuity of growth and 
the similarity of its subject-matter through the various 
periods. Moreover, comparative study in literary types 
may be almost if not quite as readily pursued when the 
material is arranged chronologically as when it is grouped 
by types. In the notes frequent suggestion has been 
made for comparative study, which the teacher of more 
advanced pupils may carry out when supplementary work 
is deemed advisable. 

The fifst object of the biographical sketches in the body 
of the reader is to awaken interest in the writers repre- 
sented in its pages. No effort has been made to produce 
exhaustive studies, but the best available sources of in- 
formation have been carefully consulted, and it is hoped 
that the main facts in the writers' lives as here presented 
may arouse a desire on the part of the pupils for further 
reading in the all-important field of biography. Such 
criticism and suggestion are given as will elucidate the 
selections which follow, but the tendency of modem 
critical methods in the study of origins and sources has 
been avoided as undesirable and unsuitable for the grade 
of pupils here appealed to. The pupils should be required 



The Preface ix 

to read these sketches aloud and to reproduce their 
substance without actually memorizing details. 

Most of the selections have been given in their entirety, 
for one of the chief aims of the book is to make possible 
the study of the productions as literary units. In the 
several instances where parts from longer works have been 
used, the completeness of each selection as a literary unit 
has been preserved. In only one instance in a shorter 
work has this principle been violated, and then because 
of conditions imposed with the granting of rights of pub- 
lication. Moreover, the texts have been subjected to 
critical preparation, preference invariably being given to 
the most authoritative version; and no changes have 
been made in the material except where obvious error 
existed or where the interests of the pupil demanded a 
slight revision. In all such cases mention has been made 
of the variations from the original text. 

The critical apparatus at the back of the book should be 
used judiciously, the teacher determining just what is 
best in individual cases. The use of this material should 
by no means be allowed to render the teaching of litera- 
ture mechanical. That the literature itself is the main 
object should constantly be borne in mind. To read with 
clearness, accuracy, and expression the poems and stories 
and essays, and enjoy their intellectual, emotional, and 
esthetic qualities, is the highest desideratum. To over- 
emphasize the letter is to deaden the spirit; but on the 
other hand, to neglect the letter is frequently to leave 
closed all avenues of approach to anything like an appreci- 
ation of the production. The only effectual way of getting 
at the spirit of a literary production, particularly in the 
earHer stages of education, is through knowledge gained 
by attention to the letter. It is absolutely necessary, 
then, to study words, allusions, thought units, and the 
general technical elements of literary construction. The 
child must be given as a basis of knowledge the details of 
literary values before he can properly perceive or estimate 
the spirit of literary art as a whole. 

General acknowledgments must here be made of indebt- 
edness to the well-known works on Southern literature, 
such as W. M. Baskervill's Southern Writers, W. P. Trent's 



X The Preface 

Southern Writers, F. V. N. Painter's Poets of the South, 
W. L. Weber's The Southern Poets, C. W. Hubner's Rep- 
resentative Southern Poets, H. J. Stockard's A Study of 
Southern Poetry, Carl Holliday's A History of Southern 
Literature, M. J. Moses's The Literature of the South, 
The Library of Southern Literature edited by E. A. Alder- 
man, J. C. Harris, and C. W. Kent, and The South in the 
Making of the Nation. From the biographical volimies 
of the last-named work the editor of the present book has 
literally transcribed here and there in the biographical 
sketches a few sentences from articles prepared but not 
signed by him. In one or two other instances he has 
used, with slight revision, paragraphs from his own pub- 
lished articles. In all other cases of borrowing or quota- 
tion effort has been made to give credit to those to whom 
credit is due. 

Special acknowledgments for the use of their poems 
are to be made to Madison Cawein, William Lawrence 
Chittenden, and Hilton Ross Greer; to Harry Stillwell 
Edwards for permission to use ''Shadow'' and The Vulture 
and His Shadow; to Julian Harris for permission to use 
the selection from his father's works; to Mrs. Mary Day 
Lanier and Henry W. Lanier for permission to use selec- 
tions from the works of Sidney Lanier and for the portrait 
of the poet ; to the' family of Mrs. Margaret Junkin Preston 
for permission to use selections from her works; and to 
Stark Young for permission to use Texas Heroes, hitherto 
unpublished, and Gordia. 

The editor wishes to express thanks to several of his 
colleagues in the University of Texas who have kindly 
read parts of his manuscript and made occasional sugges- 
tion as to material to be used. Thanks are due also to 
Misses Nina and Maclovia Hill, of the Austin High School, 
for aid rendered in the correction of proof. 

Ausiin, Texas, January, iqij 



THE TABLE OF CONTENTS 

The Preface vii 

I. Antebellum Writers 

1. FRANCIS SCOTT KEY— 

1. Portrait {facing) i 

2. Biographical Sketch I 

3. The Star-spangled Banner 4 

2. JOHN JAMES LA FOREST AUDUBON— 

1. Portrait {facing) 6 

2. Biographical Sketch 6 

3. The Mocking-bird 9 

4. The Ruby-throated Humming-bird 13 

3. RICHARD HENRY WILDE— 

1. Biographical Sketch 17 

2. Lament of the Captive 18 

4. WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS— 

1. Biographical Sketch 19 

2. The Partisans 21 

3. The Swamp Fox 25 

4. The Grape-vine Swing 28 

5. EDGAR ALLAN POE— 

1. Portrait {facing) 29 

2. Biographical Sketch 29 

3. The Gold Bug 34 

4. The Haunted Palace 78 

5. The Raven 79 

6. The Philosophy of Composition 86 

7. The Bells . 100 

8. Annabel Lee 104 

9. -The Masque of the Red Death 105 

6. ALEXANDER BEAUFORT MEEK— 

I. Biographical Sketch 113 

2.^ Land of the South 114 

4. The Mocking-bird 116 

7. THEODORE O'HARA— 

1. Biographical Sketch 118 

2. The Bivouac of the Dead 119 

8. LAMAR, PINKNEY, AND COOKE— 

1. Biographical Sketches 123 

2. The Daughter of Mendoza .... ... 126 

3. A Health 127 

4. Florence Vane 128 

[xi\ 



xii Southern Literary Readings 

II. War Period and Reconstruction Writers 

9. ALBERT PIKE— 

1. Biographical Sketch 130 

2. Every Year 132 

10. JOHN REUBEN THOMPSON— 

1. Biographical Sketch 135 

2. Music in Camp i37 

11. FRANCIS ORRAY TICKNOR— 

1. Biographical Sketch 140 

2. Little Giffen 142 

12. HENRY TIMROD— 

1. Portrait {facing) I44 

2. Biographical Sketch I44 

3. The Lily Confidante 148 

4. Storm and Calm 150 

5. Carolina 151 

6. Ode 154 

13. JOHN ESTEN COOKE— 

1. Biographical Sketch i55 

2. The Death of Stonewall Jackson 158 

14. PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE— 

1. Portrait {facing) 171 

2. Biographical Sketch 171 

3. Lyric of Action i73 

4. Aethra I74 

5. Sonnets — Great Poets and Small; Poets; My Study; 

To Henry W. Longfellow; The Mocking-bird amid 

Yellow Jasmine 175 

15. JAMES RYDER RANDALL— 

1. Biographical Sketch 178 

2. Maryland! My Maryland! 180 

3. Pelham 182 

16. MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON — 

I.. Biographical Sketch .184 

2. Gone Forward 187 

3. The Shade of the Trees 188 

4. The Color-bearer 189 

17. ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN— 

1. Portrait {facing) 193 

2. Biographical Sketch 193 

3. The Conquered Banner 194 

4. The Sword of Robert Lee 196 



The Table of Contents xiii 

i8. LUCIUS QUINTUS CINCINNATUS LAMAR— - 

1. Portrait {facing) 198 

2. Biographical Sketch . . .198 

3. Eulogy on Charles Sumner 201 

19. SIDNEY LANIER— 

1. Portrait {facing) 209 

2. Biographical Sketch 209 

3. Song of the Chattahoochee 214 

4. A Ballad of Trees and the Master 216 

5. My Springs 216 

6. Stanzas from " Corn " 218 

7. Three Letters 220 

III. Recent Writers 

20. IRWIN RUSSELL— 

1. Biographical Sketch 227 

2. Christmas-night in the Quarters 230 

3. Business in Mississippi 239 

4. Mahsr John 241 

5. Nebuchadnezzar 243 

21. HENRY WOODFIN GRADY— 

1. Portrait {facing) 245 

2. Biographical Sketch 245 

3. The New South (Selection) 249 

4. The Farmer's Home (Selection) 252 

5. The Wounded Soldier (Selection) 255 

22. JAMES LANE ALLEN — 

1. Portrait {facing) 261 

2. Biographical Sketch 261 

3. Earth Shield and Earth Festival 264 

33. JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS— 

1. Biographical Sketch 268 

2. The Tale of the Crystal Bell 272 

24. CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK— 

1. Portrait {facing) 298 

2. Biographical Sketch 298 

3. Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair . . .301 

25. FRANCIS HOPKINSON SMITH— 

1. Portrait {facing) 326 

2. Biographical Sketch 326 

3. The One-legged Goose .328 

26. STARK YOUNG— 

1. Biographical Sketch 334 

2. Gordia 335 

3. Texas Heroes 342 



xiv Southern Literary Readings 



27. O 



HENRY— 



1. Portrait {facing) 343 

2. Biographical Sketch 343 

3. The Gift of the Magi . 345 

4. A Chaparral Prince 351 

28. HILTON ROSS GREER— ' 

1 . Biographical Sketch 363 

2. A Prairie Prayer 364 

3. A Mockbird Matinee 366 

29. WILLIAM LAWRENCE CHITTENDEN— 

1. Biographical Sketch 369 

2. The Ranchman's Ride 370 

3. Old Fort Phantom Hill 371 

30. HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS— 

1. Biographical Sketch 374 

2. "Shadow" 375 

3. The Vulture and His Shadow 383 

31. MADISON CAWEIN— 

1. Biographical Sketch 385 

2. The Old Water-mill 387 

3. Seasons 391 

4. Sounds and Sights 392 

5. ZypsofZirl 393 

32. SAMUEL MINTURN PECK— 

1. Biographic^ Sketch 397 

2. An Alabama Garden 398 

3. The Grapevine Swing 399 

The Notes 401 

A Pronouncing List of Proper Names 486 




From a photograph after an engraving 
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY 



FRANCIS SCOTT KEY 

Francis Scott Key, author of The Star-spangled Banner, 
was born on August 9, 1780, at Terra Rubra, the ancestral 
home of his progenitors, near Frederick, Maryland. He 
attended school in and near Annapolis, and later read law 
in the office of the Hon. J. T. Chase of that city. There, 
too, he met Miss Mary T. Lloyd, who became his wife. 
He began the practice of his profession at Frederick, but 
later opened offices in Washington, making his residence 
in Georgetown, D. C. He became a noted lawyer, his 
name appearing on one side or the other in many of the 
most famous cases in the courts in which he practiced. 
He was a devout Christian, and the religious element 
in his character gave rise to much of his power and to 
much of the confidence bestowed upon him by his neigh- 
bors, not only in the discharge of their legal matters but 
in all the private relations of life. With this religious 
instinct may be associated the profound sense of patriot- 
ism which he always evinced. 

The occasion for the writing of the famous song The 
Star-spangled Banner is well known, and the story of its 
composition often has been told. It was at the time of 
the War of 18 12 between England and the United States. 
Admiral Cockbum of the British navy had landed five 
thousand soldiers, marched to Washington, and there 
destroyed the new capitol. Some straggling soldiers 
afterward entered the home of Dr. William Beans at 
Upper Marlboro, about sixteen miles southeast of Wash- 
ington, and created a disturbance. They were arrested 
and thrown into jail at the instigation of Dr. Beans, but 
one of them escaped and made an exaggerated report of 
the arrest of his comrades to Admiral Cockbum. The 
admiral ordered a squad of marines to arrest Dr. Beans 
and bring him to the British hnes. The doctor was 
roughly handled, placed in irons, and without a hearing 
of any kind thrown into the hold of a British ship. 

1 [I] 



2 Southern Literary Readings 

Mr. Key, as a lawyer and a man of influence, was 
urged by the friends of Dr. Beans to ask permission of 
our government to go to the British fleet under a flag 
of truce and make an effort to secure the prisoner's 
release. It was a hazardous and disagreeable undertaking, 
but Mr. Key agreed to attempt it, and in company with 
Colonel John Skinner, the regularly authorized United 
States parole agent, he set sail from Baltimore in the 
Minden, September 3, 18 14, to find the British fleet 
somewhere in Chesapeake Bay. They were successful 
in locating Dr. Beans on the Surprise, but they were 
informed by the admiral that inasmuch as the doctor 
had cruelly mistreated and caused the arrest of British 
soldiers, his punishment would be severe; other officers 
even hinted that he would be hanged. By tactful and 
careful presentation of the facts in the case, and by 
pointing out the great services Dr. Beans had rendered 
to wounded soldiers, British as well as American, the 
envoys persuaded the admiral to release the prisoner. 

But now a new turn of affairs was presented. The 
British admiral informed them that he would be com- 
pelled to detain them in his fleet until the termination 
of the action which was about to be undertaken, for he 
was unwilling that they should return to Baltimore to 
tell what they knew about the British forces and plans. 
Accordingly the Americans, now virtually prisoners, 
remained on the Surprise for about a week, and were 
then transferred to their own vessel, the Minden, which 
was anchored close by, where the prisoners could witness 
the proposed attack and capture of Baltimore. 

The little battery on Whetstone Point, Fort McHenry, 
under the command of Major Armistead, was the focal 
point of the British attack. The fleet fairly rained their 
heavy bombs on the fort, but Major Armistead withheld 
his fire until the ships came close enough for his small guns 
to do effective service, and then he answered the British 
in a way to make them beat a hasty retreat. The fight 
continued all day and far into the night. The spectacle 
as viewed from the anchored ship Minden was a grand 
one, but to the little band of American watchers the 
suspense was frightful. 



Francis Scott Key j 

Francis Scott Key, aglow with all the fervor of his 
religious and patriotic soul, could not rest, as did his 
companions, that terrible night. He watched in uncer- 
tain expectancy until the coming of the dawn, straining 
his eyes to catch a glimpse of the flag on the fort, to sat- 
isfy himself that the battery had withstood the attack 
and his people were safe. A heavy mist had risen over 
the harbor and for a time it shut off the land from his 
anxious gaze. When the sun finally rose, he saw dimly 
through the mist that enshrouded the fort the star- 
spangled banner still waving aloft, and with a heart 
overflowing with patriotic emotion he wrote down on 
the back of an old letter the first draft of his now 
famous poem. 

The British admiral informed the detained Americans 
that they were at liberty to return to shore, for the 
attack had failed. On the evening of this day after the 
battle, September 14, 18 14, Key wrote out the full draft 
of his poem. The words were published the next day 
in the Baltimore American, and printed in handbill form 
to be scattered broadcast over the city. In a single day 
the song sprang into popularity and brought its author 
lasting fame. It was set to the old tune of "Anacrepn 
in Heaven, " by Ferdinand Durang, a Baltimore musician, 
and sung upon the stage of Holiday-Street Theater that 
same evening. 

Francis Scott Key died January 11, 1843, i^^ Baltimore, 
and was buried in Mount Olivet Cemetery, Frederick, 
Maryland. A beautiful marble monument crowned with 
a bronze statue now marks his grave, and many patriotic 
Americans will in the years to come^ make pilgrimage to 
this spot, to do honor to the author of The Star-spangled 
Banner. 

(The most authoritative biography of Francis Scott Key is the 
monograph by F. S. Key-Smith, published by the Key-Smith Com- 
pany, Washington, D.C., 191 1. The material for our sketch is 
drawn largely from this monograph.) 



THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER 

O say! can you see, by the dawn's early light, 
What so proudly we hailed, at the twilight's last 
gleaming? 
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous 
fight, 
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly 
streaming; 
5 And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, 
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there ; 
O say, does that Star-spangled Banner yet wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? 

On that shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, 
10 Where the foe's Jiaughty host in dread silence reposes. 

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, 
As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses? 

Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam. 

In full glory reflected now shines in the stream : 
15 'Tis the Star-spangled Banner; O long may it wave 

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! 

And where are the foes who so vauntingly swore 

That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion, 
A home and a country should leave us no more : 
20 Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution ; 
No refuge could save the hireling and slave 
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave; 
And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph doth wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! 

[4] 



The Star-spangled Banner 5 

O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand 

Between their loved homes and war's desolation; 
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land 
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a 
nation ! 
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just, 
And this be our motto, "In God is our trust"; 
And the Star-spangled Banner in triumph shall wave 
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave! 



JOHN JAMES LA FOREST AUDUBON 

Definite dates in the life of Audubon frequently are 
hopelessly confused or altogether wanting, but from the 
brief account given in the Beacon Biographies of Eminent 
Americans by John Burroughs, that distinguished naturalist 
of our own day, we may cull the more important facts. 
John James La Forest Audubon was bom in Mandeville, 
Louisiana, presumably May 4, 1780. The family shortly 
after this date moved to an estate of theirs on Santo 
Domingo Island in the British West Indies ; but soon there 
arose an insurrection of the slaves, among the results of 
which were the death of the mother and the flight of the 
father and son to New Orleans. The father, taking the 
boy with him, returned to his native country, France. 

About 1797, after several years of study in French 
schools, young Audubon returned to America and took 
up his residence on Mill Grove Farm, an estate near 
Philadelphia belonging to his father. It was while living 
here that he met Lucy Bakewell, the attractive daughter 
of one of his neighbors, who later became his devoted and 
self-sacrificing wife. He again went to France, about 1806, 
and studied for perhaps two years, taking drawing lessons 
from the celebrated French artist Jacques Louis David. 
Returning to America, he tried for about ten years to 
make money by various business ventures in New York, 
Philadelphia, Louisville, and other places, but his heart 
was always in the woods with the wild things, and he 
himself there far too often for the success of his business. 
In 1 8 10 he met Alexander Wilson, the famous American 
ornithologist, and siu-prised this expert by the number 
and quality of the bird drawings he had already made. 

Audubon had now spent all his patrimony in his un- 
fortunate business enterprises, and was forced to resort 
for a livelihood to his skill as a draftsman. He began 
painting portraits at five dollars each, and on the income 
from this source he was soon able to support his family, 

[6] 




From a photograph after an eugravmg 
JOHN JAMES LA FOREST AUDUBON 



John James La Forest Audubon 7 

now in Louisville, Kentucky. Later his bird pictures and 
his skill as a taxidermist secured for him a position in a 
museum in Cincinnati. He supplemented the precarious 
stipend received from the musetim by taking pupils in 
drawing. Finally he determined on an extensive trip, to 
gather more material for his collection of bird paintings. 
On a flatboat he went down the Ohio River to New Orleans. 
Here he earned some money by painting, and he soon felt 
able to send for his family to join him. 

Audubon now decided to try to publish his collection 
of bird drawings as Wilson had done before him. He met 
with discouragement in America, but with undaunted 
courage and great faith in himself he went to England. 
There he was well received by the most celebrated men 
of the day. He found a publisher who was willing to 
undertake his work on The Birds of America, and he set 
about securing subscribers to the expensive folios of 
his life-size bird pictures. He visited Cambridge and 
Oxford, and was cordially received at both universities. 
He then went over to France, seeking more subscribers. 

In 1829 Audubon returned to America to prepare more 
material for his great American Ornithology. He finally 
went to Bayou Sara in Mississippi, where his faithful wife 
had for some time been teaching, to earn a livelihood for 
their family," and together they made their way to New 
York and then to England, to attend to the publication of 
his drawings. In order to get more material for both the 
folios and the text of the bird biographies he was prepar- 
ing to accompany the pictures, Audubon again returned 
to America. He spent the winter in Florida, studjdng 
plants, mammals, and birds, and writing many sketches. 
In the following summer, about 1832, he went into Maine 
and Labrador, still tracking the denizens of field, forest, 
and air. In the autumn, a return journey through the 
larger cities led on down to Charleston, South CaroHna, 
where the Audubon family spent the winter of 1833-4. 
Then came another visit to England, and in 1836 a return 
to America for more exploring and sketching. This was 
about the time of his famous trip into Texas to study the 
fauna of the great Southwest, and to visit General Sam 
Houston, President of the Republic of Texas. One more 



8 Southern Literary Readings 

journey to England was his last. In 1840, after the 
publication of the fifth and last volume of his bird biog- 
raphies, he returned to New York. 

The great work of his life was the production of the 
elephant folios, more than three feet long and two feet wide, 
comprising life-size pictures of one thousand fifty-five 
birds, ranging from the humming birds of the South to the 
great bald eagles of the North. These volumes — four in 
all — originally cost each subscriber one thousand dollars, 
but they are now worth four thousand or more a set. The 
text accompanying them consisted of five volimies called 
American Ornithological Biography, the whole work being 
usually referred to as The Birds of America, The last 
work undertaken by Audubon was the Quadrupeds and 
Biography of American Quadrupeds, his sons John and 
Victor doing a large part of the work, particularly in the 
second and third of the three volumes. The last years 
of the great naturalist were passed in "Minnie's Land," 
the home which he had purchased on the Hudson River 
just above New York, and which is now known as Audubon 
Park. His mind began to fail in 1847, ^^^ ^^ died on 
January 27, 1851. 

The chief literary qualities of Audubon's style are 
vividness of description, lively imagination, intense 
enthusiasm, and an • ardent love for his subject. These 
excellences partially atone for the occasional faults in 
sentence structure, the frequent lapses in the use of 
pronouns, and the numerous instances of vagueness and 
illogicality. Audubon was perhaps more of an artist than 
a scientist in the strict modem sense of the latter term; 
but he has so combined the literature of knowledge with 
that of power as to make a distinct place for himself in 
letters and in science, as well as in art. The selections 
chosen here, fairly, if not adequately, represent the salient 
qualities of his unique literary-scientific productions. 

(The authoritative biography of this noted ornithologist is 
Audubon and His Journals by his granddaughter Maria R. 
Audubon; but the most readable and easily accessible short life 
is that by John Burroughs in the Beacon Biographies series.) 



THE MOCKING-BIRD 

It is where the great magnoHa shoots up its majestic 
trunk, crowned with evergreen leaves, and decorated with 
a thousand beautiful flowers that perfume the air around ; 
where the forests and fields are adorned with blossoms 
of every hue; where the golden orange ornaments the s 
gardens and the groves; where bignonias of various kinds 
interlace their climbing stems around the white-flowered 
stuartia, and mounting still higher, cover the summits of 
the lofty trees around, accompanied with innumerable 
vines that here and there festoon the dense foliage of the lo 
magnificent woods, lending to the vernal breeze a slight 
portion of the perfume of their clustered flowers ; where a 
genial warmth seldom forsakes the atmosphere; where 
berries and fruits of all descriptions are met with at every 
step; — in a word, kind reader, it is where Nature seems to 15 
have paused, as she passed over the earth, and opening 
her stores, to have strewed with unsparing hand the diver- 
sified seeds from which have sprung all the beautiful and 
splendid forms which I should in vain attempt to describe, 
that the mocking-bird should have fixed its abode, there 20 
only that its wondrous song should be heard. 

But where is that favoured land? It is in that great 
continent to whose distant shores Europe has sent forth 
her adventurous sons, to wrest for themselves a habita- 
tion from the wild inhabitants of the forest, and to convert 25 
the neglected soil into fields of exuberant fertility. It is, 
reader, in Louisiana that these bounties of nature are in 
the greatest perfection. It is there that you should listen 
to the love-song of the mocking-bird, as I at this moment 

[P] 



10 Southern Literary Readings 

80 do. See how he flies round his mate, with motions as light 
as those of the butterfly ! His tail is widely expanded, he 
mounts in the air to a small distance, describes a circle, 
and, again alighting, approaches his beloved one, his eyes 
gleaming with delight, for she has already promised to be 

35 his and his only. His beautiful wings are gently raised, he 
bows to his love, and again bouncing upwards, opens his 
bill, and pours forth his melody, full of exultation at the 
conquest which he has made. 

They are not the soft sounds of the flute or the hautboy 

40 that I hear, but the sweeter notes of Nature's own music. 
The mellowness of the song, the varied modulations and 
gradations, the extent of its compass, the great brilliancy 
of execution, are unrivalled. There is probably no bird 
in the world that possesses all the musical qualifications 

45 of this king of song, who has derived all from Nature's self. 
Yes, reader, all! 

No sooner has he again alighted near his mate than, as 
if his breast was about to be rent with delight, he again 
pours forth his notel with more softness and richness than 

50 before. He now soars higher, glancing around with a 
vigilant eye, to assure himself that none has witnessed his 
bliss. When these love-scenes are over, he dances through 
the air, full of animation and delight, and, as if to convince 
his lovely mate that to enrich her hopes he has much more 

55 love in store, he that moment begins anew, and imitates 
all the notes which Nature has imparted to the other song- 
sters of the grove. 

For awhile, each long day and pleasant night are thus 
spent. A nest is to be prepared, and the choice of a place 

60 in which to lay it is to become a matter of mutual consid- 
eration. The orange, the fig, the pear-tree of the gardens 
are inspected; the thick briar patches are also visited. 
They appear all so well suited for the purpose in view, and 



The Mocking-Bird ii 

so well do the birds know that man is not their most 
dangerous enemy, that, instead of retiring from him, es 
they at length fix their abode in his vicinity, perhaps in the 
nearest tree to his window. Dried twigs, leaves, grasses, 
cotton, flax, and other substances, are picked up, carried 
to a forked branch, and there arranged. Five eggs are 
deposited in due tirae, when the male, having little more 70 
to do than to sing his mate to repose, attunes his pipe 
anew. Every now and then he spies an insect on the 
ground, the taste of which he is sure will please his be- 
loved one. He drops upon it, takes it in his bill, beats it 
against the earth, and flies to the nest to feed and receive 75 
the warm thanks of his devoted female. 

When a fortnight has elapsed, the young brood demand 
all their care and attention. No cat, no vile snake, no 
dreaded hawk, is likely to visit their habitation. Indeed 
the inmates of the next house have by this time become so 
quite attached to the lovely pair of mocking-birds, and 
take pleasure in contributing to their safety. The 
dew-berries from the fields, and many kinds of fruit from 
the gardens, mixed with insects, supply the young as well 
as the parents with food. The brood is soon seen emerg- ss 
ing from the nest, and in another fortnight, being now 
able to fly with vigour, and to provide for themselves, they 
leave the parent birds, as many other species do. 

In winter, nearly all the mocking-birds approach the 
farm-houses and plantations, living about the gardens or 90 
outhouses. They are then frequently seen on the roofs, 
and perched on the chimney-tops ; yet they always appear 
full of animation. Whilst searching for food on the ground, 
their motions are light and elegant, and they frequently 
open their wings as butterflies do when basking in the sun, 95 
moving a step or two, and again throwing out their wings. 



12 Southern Literary Readings 

When the weather is mild, the old males are heard singing 
with as much spirit as during the spring or summer, while 
the younger birds are busily engaged in practising, pre- 

100 paratory to the love season. They seldom resort to the 
interior of the forest either during the day or by night, 
but usually roost among the foliage of evergreens, in the 
immediate vicinity of houses in Louisiana, although in the 
Eastern States they prefer low fir trees. 

105 The flight of the mocking-bird is performed by short 
jerks of the body and wings, at every one of which a strong 
twitching motion of the tail is perceived. This motion is 
still more apparent while the bird is walking, when it opens 
its tail like a fan and instantly closes it again. . . . 

110 When travelling, this flight is only a little prolonged, as the 
bird goes from tree to tree, or at most across a field, 
scarcely, if ever, rising higher than the top of the forest. 
During this migration, it generally resorts to the highest 
parts of the woods near water-courses, utters its usual 

115 mournful note, and roosts in these places. It travels 
mostly by day. 

Few hawks attack the mocking-birds, as on their 
approach, however sudden it may be, they are always 
ready not only to defend themselves vigorously and 

120 with undaunted courage, but to meet the aggressor half 
way, and force him to abandon his intention. The only 
hawk that occasionally surprises the mocking-bird is the 
Falco Starlen, which flies low with great swiftness, and 
carries the bird off without any apparent stoppage. 

125 Should it happen that the ruffian misses his prey, the mock- 
ing-bird in turn becomes the assailant, and pvirsues the 
hawk with great courage, calling in the mean time all 
the birds of its species to its assistance; and although 
it cannot overtake the marauder, the alarm created by 

130 their cries, which are propagated in succession among all 



Tlie Ruby-throated Humming-Bird ij 

the birds in the vicinity, like the watchwords of sentinels 
on duty, prevents him from succeeding in his attempts. 
The musical powers of this bird have often been taken 
notice of by European natiiralists, and persons who find 
pleasure in listening to the song of different birds whilst 135 
in confinement or at large. Some of these persons have 
described the notes of the Nightingale as occasionally 
fully equal to those of our bird. I have frequently heard 
both species, in confinement and in the wild state, and 
without prejudice have no hesitation in pronouncing the 140 
notes of the European philomel equal to those of a sou- 
brette of taste, which, could she study under a Mozart, 
might perhaps in time become very interesting in her 
way. But to compare her essays to the finished talent 
of the mocking-bird is, in my opinion, quite absurd. 145 



THE RUBY-THROATED HUMMING-BIRD 

Where is the person who, on seeing this lovely little 
creature moving on humming winglets through the air, 
suspended as if by magic in it, flitting from one flower to 
another, with motions as graceful as they are light and 
airy, pursuing its course over our extensive continent, and 5 
yielding new delights wherever it is seen; — where is the 
person, I ask of you, kind reader, who, on observing this 
glittering fragment of the rainbow, would not pause, admire, 
and instantly turn his mind with reverence toward the 
Almighty Creator, the wonders of whose hand we at every 10 
step discover, and of whose sublime conceptions we every- 
where observe the manifestations in his admirable system 
of creation? There breathes not such a person; so kindly 
have we all been blessed with that intuitive and noble 
feeling — admiration ! le 



14 Southern Literary Readings 

No sooner has the returning sim again introduced the 
vernal season, and caused millions of plants to expand their 
leaves and blossoms to his genial beams, than the little 
humming-bird is seen advancing on fairy wings, care- 

20 fully visiting every opening flower-cup, and, like a curious 
florist, removing from each the injurious insects that other- 
wise would ere long cause their beauteous petals to droop 
and decay. Poised in the air, it is observed peeping 
cautiously, and with sparkling eye, into their innermost 

25 recesses, whilst the ethereal motions of its pinions, so 
rapid and so light, appear to fan and cool the flower, 
without injuring its fragile texture, and produce a delight- 
ful murmuring sound, well adapted for lulling the insects 
to repose. Then is the moment for the humming-bird 

30 to secure them. Its long delicate bill enters the cup of the 
flower, and the protruded double-tubed tongue, delicately 
sensible, and imbued with a glutinous saliva, touches each 
insect in succession, and draws it from its lurking place, 
to be instantly swallowed. All this is done in a moment, 

35 and the bird, as it leaves the flower, sips so small a portion 

of its liquid honey, that the theft, we may suppose, is 

looked upon with a grateful feeling by the flower, which is 

thus kindly relieved from the attacks of her destroyers. 

The prairies, the fields, the orchards and gardens, nay, 

40 the deepest shades of the forests, are all visited in their 
turn, and everywhere the little bird meets with pleasure 
and with food. Its gorgeous throat in beauty and bril- 
liancy baflies all competition. Now it glows with a fiery 
hue, and again it is changed to the deepest velvety black. 

45 The upper parts of its delicate body are of resplendent 
changing green; and it throws itself through the air with 
a swiftness and vivacity hardly conceivable. It moves 
from one flower to another like a gleam of light, upwards, 
downwards, to the right and to the left. In this manner 



The Ruby-throated Humming-Bird 15 

it searches the extreme northern portions of our country, so 
following with great precaution the advances of the sea- 
son, and retreats with equal care at the approach of 
autumn. 

I wish it were in my power at this moment to impart to 
you, kind reader, the pleastires which I have felt whilst 55 
watching the movements, and viewing the manifestations 
of feelings displayed by a single pair of these most favourite 
little creatures, when engaged in the demonstration of their 
love to each other: — how the male swells his plumage and 
throat, and dancing on the wing, whirls around the deli- eo 
cafe female; how quickly he dives towards a flower, and 
returns with a loaded bill, which he offers to her to whom 
alone he feels desirous of being united; how full of ecstasy 
he seems to be when his caresses are kindly received; how 
his Httle wings fan her, as they fan the flowers, and he es 
transfers to her bill the insect and the honey which he has 
procured with a view to please her; how these attentions 
are received with apparent satisfaction; . . . how, then, 
the courage and care of the male are redoubled ; how he even 
dares to give chase to the tyrant fly-catcher, and hurries 70 
the blue-bird and the martin to their boxes ; and how, on 
sounding pinions, he joyously returns to the side of his 
lovely mate. Reader, all these proofs of the sincerity, 
fidelity, and courage, with which the male assures his mate 
of the care he will take of her while [she is] sitting on 75 
her nest, may be seen, and have been seen, but cannot 
be portrayed or described. 

Could you, kind reader, cast a momentary glance on the 
nest of the humming-bird, and see, as I have seen, the 
newly-hatched pair of young, Httle larger than humble- so 
bees, naked, blind, and so feeble as scarcely to be able to 
raise their little bills to receive food from the parents ; and 
could you see those parents, full of anxiety and fear, passing 



1 6 Southern Literary Readings 

and repassing within a few inches of your face, alighting 
85 on a twig not more than a yard from your body, waiting 
the result of your unwelcome visit in a state of the utmost 
despair, — you could not fail to be impressed with the 
deepest pangs which parental affection feels on the unex- 
pected death of a cherished child. Then how pleasing is it, 
90 on your leaving the spot, to see the returning hope of the 
parents, when, after examining the nest, they find their 
nurslings untouched ! You might then judge how pleasing 
it is to a mother of another kind, to hear the physician who 
has attended her sick child assure her that the crisis is 
95 over, and that her babe is saved. These are the scenes 
best fitted to enable us to partake of sorrow and joy, and 
to determine every one who views them to make it his 
study to contribute to the happiness of others, and to 
refrain from wantonly or maliciously giving them pain. 



RICHARD HENRY WILDE 

Though bom in Dublin, Ireland, in 1789, and brought 
to America when he was a lad about eight years of age, 
Richard Henry Wilde always has been considered an 
American and a Southerner. Baltimore was his home 
for the first few years after his arrival in this country, 
but it was in Augusta, Georgia, that he began life on his 
own responsibility. On the death of his father in 1802 
he went alone to this city, where he secured work as a 
drygoods clerk. Later he took up the study of law and 
at the age of twenty years he was admitted to the bar. 
Soon afterward he entered politics, and before he was 
twenty-five he was elected to several state offices. He had 
barely reached the constitutional age for admission into the 
National House of Representatives — namely, twenty-five 
years — when he was sent to Congress. He failed of reelec- 
tion in 18 1 6, however, and retired to the private practice 
of his profession. He served again in 1828, retaining 
his seat for eight years; but having lost his prestige in 
politics by opposing Jackson, he failed of reelection in 
1834, and decided to go abroad for recreation and study. 

He spent most of his time in Florence, collecting material 
for works on thclives of the Italian poets Tasso and Dante. 
He published a two-volume life of Tasso in 1842, but he 
never completed his proposed life of Dante. Poetry 
always had been to him a source of mental pleasure 
and activity, and for years he had been busy writing 
original poems and translating many foreign ones, par- 
ticularly from the works of his favorite Italian poets. 
The most famous of all his works is the lyric found in an 
unfinished epic poem dealing with incidents of the Semi- 
nole War in Florida. It is variously known as Stanzas, 
Lament of the Captive, or, from its first line, "My life 
is like the summer rose. " 

On his return to America, Wilde settled in New Orleans, 
to engage in the practice of his profession. In 1842 he was 

2 [17] 



i8 Southern Literary Readings 

made professor of Constitutional Law in the University 
of Louisiana, now Tulane University, and he continued 
to practice and lecture until his death, which occurred 
September lo, 1847. 



LAMENT OF THE CAPTIVE 

My life is like the simimer rose, 
That opens to the morning sky ; 

And ere the shades of evening close, 
Is scattered on the ground — to die : 

Yet, on that rose's humble bed 

The softest dews of night are shed ; 
As if she wept such waste to see : 
But none shall drop a tear for me ! 

My life is like the autumn leaf, 

That trembles in the moon's pale ray; 

Its hold ifi frail, its date is brief — 
Restless, and soon to pass away: 

Yet, when that leaf shall fall and fade, 

The parent tree will mourn its shade ; 
The wind bewail the leafless tree : 
But none shall breathe a sigh for me ! 

My life is like the print, which feet 
Have left on Tampa's desert strand ; 

•Soon as the rising tide shall beat. 

Their track will vanish from the sand : 

Yet, as if grieving to efface 

All vestige of the human race, 

On that lone shore loud moans the sea : 
But none shall thus lament for me ! 



WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 

Aside from Edgar Allan Poe, the most versatile and 
prolific as well as the most influential man in Southern 
literature before the Civil War was William Gilmore Simms. 
He was bom in Charleston, South Carolina, April 17, 1806. 
His mother died when he was about two years old, and 
his father, almost crazed by sorrow and business reverses, 
wandered away from home, leaving the boy to be brought 
up by his maternal grandmother. 

The family was now living in poverty, and young 
Simms received only a meager scholastic training in 
the Charleston schools. But he educated himself by 
wide reading and developed his talents by covering reams 
of paper with his rimes, war stories, and other kinds of 
writing, and by studying life in the hard school of daily 
experience among men. For a time the boy was appren- 
ticed to a druggist, but we find him at the age of eighteen 
years beginning the study of law. Law was not to be 
his life work, however, for he cared more for writing 
poetry, book reviews, and romances than he did for 
arguing cases before courts and juries. 

In 1826 he married Miss Anna M. Giles, of Charleston, 
and the year following published his first volimie of 
lyric poetry. About this time he became editor of the 
Charleston City Gazette, and entered upon that career 
of journalism and creative writing which was to cease 
only with his death in 1870. He began to produce his 
long line of romances about 1833, his first notable book 
being Guy Rivers: a Tale of Georgia, published in New 
York in 1834. In 1835 this was followed by The Yemasee: 
a Romance of South Carolina, the most popular book that 
Simms ever wrote. The Partisan: a Tale of the Revolution, 
full of lively action and romantic adventure, stands as a 
close second to The Yemasee in popularity, and is a book 
to thrill and delight the heart of every normal boy. 

It is impossible here to follow Simms through all 



20 Southern Literary Readings 

his literary, political, and military career. Suffice it to 
say that he was a full-blooded and warm-hearted South- 
erner, who took part in every conflict that his section 
passed through. He published nearly a hundred books, 
and tried his hand at almost every conceivable kind of 
writing. In fact, he wrote too much and too rapidly 
to give his work that polish and finish of style essential 
to literary masterpieces. He had a fertile imagination 
and could turn out hundreds of pages of manuscript 
in a few hours. He rarely corrected or revised his first 
drafts, and hence his works are full of faults due to haste 
and over-confidence. But under the heat of imagination 
he could write wonderfully interesting tales; and his 
conceptions of character, his descriptions of nature, and 
his intensely dramatic situations are not altogether 
lacking in truth, verisimilitude, and power. 

In 1836, his wife having died, Simms married for the 
second time, the lady who now became his wife being 
Miss Chevilette Roach, an heiress. At their beautifid 
home called "Woodlands'* near Midway, South Carolina, 
they lived in true Southern fashion, constantly enter- 
taining their many friends and distinguished visitors. 

Simms has suffered from neglect in recent years, but 
he will always hold &, large place in the history of Southern 
literature, even if his works are little read to-day. He 
has done good and valiant service in preserving the his- 
tory and scenery of his state and of the nation, and the 
influence of his life will not soon pass away. He was 
perhaps greater as a man than as a writer, and like 
Samuel Johnson in English literature he will, as the years 
pass by, come to be more valued as a true representative 
of his people than as an author. 

He wrote a great deal of mediocre poetry, publishing 
in all eighteen volumes of verse ; the mass of his poetical 
compositions will be consigned to oblivion, but a few of 
his better poems have lasted and The Swamp Fox, The 
Lost Pleiad, and The Grape-vine Swing will long keep his 
name fresh in the minds of readers of American poetry. 

(W. P. Trent's Life of William Gilmore Simms is the standard 
biography of this author.) 



THE PARTISANS 
From "The Partisan: A Romance of the Revolution" 

We are again in the precincts of the Ashley. These old 
woods about Dorchester deserve to be famous. There is 
not a wagon track, not a defile, not a clearing, not a traverse 
of these plains, which has not been consecrated by the 
strife for liberty; the close strife — the desperate struggle; a 
the contest, unrelaxing, unyielding to the last, save only 
with death or conquest. These old trees have looked 
down upon blood and battles ; the thick array and the soli- 
tary combat between single foes, needing no other wit- 
nesses. What tales might they not tell us ! The sands lo 
have drunk deeply of holy and hallowed blood — blood 
that gave them value and a name, and made for them a 
place in all hiiman recollection. The grass here has been 
beaten down, in successive seasons, by heavy feet — by 
conflicting horsemen — by driving and recoiling artillery, is 
Its deep green has been dyed with a yet deeper and a darker 
stain — the outpourings of the invader's veins, mingling 
with the generous streams flowing from bosoms that had 
but one hope, but one purpose — the unpolluted freedom 
and security of home; the purity of the threshold, the 20 
sweet repose of the domestic hearth from the intrusion of 
hostile feet; — the only objects for which men may brave 
the stormy and the brutal strife, and still keep the "white- 
ness .of their souls." 

The Carolinian well knows these hallowed places; for 25 
every acre has its tradition in this neighbourhood. He 
rides beneath the thick oaks, whose branches have covered 
regiments, and looks up to them with heedful veneration. 

[21] 



22 Southern Literary Readings 

Well he remembers the old defile at the entrance just above 

80 Dorchester village, where a red clay hill rises abruptly, 
breaking pleasantly the dead level of country all around it. 
The rugged limbs and trunk of a huge oak, which hung 
above its brow and has been but recently overthrown, 
was itself an historian. It was notorious in tradition as 

35 the "gallows oak"; its limbs being employed by both 
parties, as they severally obtained the ascendency, for 
the purposes of summary execution. Famous, indeed, was 
all the partisan warfare in this neighbourhood, from the 
time of its commencement, with our story, in 1780, to 

40 the day when, hopeless of their object, the troops of the 
invader withdrew to their crowded vessels, flying from the 
land they had vainly struggled to subdue. You should 
hear the old housewives dilate upon these transactions. 
You should hear them paint the disasters, the depression 

45 of the Carolinians ! how their chief city was besieged and 
taken; their little army dispersed or cut to pieces; and 
how the invader marched over the country, and called it 
his. Anon they would show you the little gathering in 
the swamp — the small scouting squad timidly stealing forth 

50 into the plain, and contenting itself with cutting off a 
foraging party or a baggage wagon, or rescuing a dis- 
consolate group of captives on their way to the city and 
the prison ships. Soon, emboldened by success, the little 
squad, is increased by numbers, and aims at larger game. 

55 Under some such leader as Colonel Washington, you should 
see them, anon, well mounted, coursing along the Ashley 
river road, by the peep of day, well skilled in the manage- 
ment of their steeds, whose high necks beautifully, arch 
under the curb, while, in obedience to the rider's will, they 

60 plunge fearlessly through brake and through brier, over 
the fallen tree, and into the suspicious water. Heedless 
of all things but the proper achievement of their bold 



The Partisans 23 

adventure, the warriors go onward, while the broad-swords 
flash in the sunlight, and the trumpet cheers them with a 
tone of victory. 65 

And goodHer still is the sight, when, turning the narrow 
lane, thick-fringed with the scrubby oak and the pleasant 
myrtle, you behold them come suddenly to the encounter 
with the hostile invaders. How they hurrah, and rush to 
the charge with a mad emotion that the steed partakes — 70 
his ears erect, and his nostrils distended, while his eyeballs 
start forward, and grow red with the straining effort; 
then, — how the riders bear down all before them, and with 
swords shooting out from their cheeks, make nothing of 
the upraised bayonets and pointed spear, but striking in, 75 
flank and front, carry confusion wherever they go — ^while 
the hot sands drink in the life-blood of friend and foe, 
streaming through a thousand wounds. 

Hear them tell of these, and of the ''Game Cock," 
Simiter; how, always ready for fight, with a valour which so 
was too frequently rashness, he would rush into the 
hostile ranks, and, with his powerful frame and sweeping 
sabre, would single out for inveterate strife his own 
particular enemy. 

Then, of the subtle "Swamp Fox," Marion, who, slen-ss 
der of form, and having but little confidence in his own 
physical prowess, was never seen to use his sword in battle; 
gaining by stratagem and unexpected enterprise those 
advantages which his usual inferiority of force would 
never have permitted him to gain otherwise. They will 90 
tell you of his conduct and his coolness; of his ability, 
with small means, to consimimate leading objects — the 
best proof of military talent; and of his wonderful com- 
mand of his men — how they would do his will, though it 
led to the most perilous adventure, with as much alacrity 95 
as if they were going to a banquet; of the men themselves, 



24- Southern Literary Readings 

though in rags, almost starving, and exposed to all changes 
of the weather, how cheerfully, in the fastness of the swamp, 
they would sing their rude song about the capacity of 

100 their leader and their devotion to his person, in some 
such strain as that which follows, and which we owe to 
brave and generous George Dennison! 

George Dennison was himself a follower of Marion. He 
belonged to the race of troubadours, though living too late 

105 for the sort of life which they enjoyed and for the fame 
which crowned their equally eccentric lives and ballads. 
He sang for the partisans, the gallant feat even in the 
moment when performed, and taught to the hearts of a 
rude cavalry the lurking hope of remembrance in song 

no when they themselves should never hear. In the deep 
thickets of the wood, in the wild recesses of the swamp, 
when the day's march was over, when the sharp passage 
at arms was ended, whether in flight or victory, — his 
ballads, mostly extempore, cheered the dull hours and the 

115 drowsy bivouac, while his rough but martial lyrics inspired 
the audacious charge, and prompted the bold enterprise 
and the emulous achievement. Ah! brave and generous 
George Dennison, we shall borrow of the songs of thy 
making. We shall prolong for other ears the echoes of thy 

120 lively lays, and the legends which we owe to thee, who art 
thyself unknown. For verily, thou hadst the heart and 
courage of a true and gallant partisan; and thou couldst 
sing with the natural voice of a warm and passionate poet ; 
and thou couldst share the sufferings, and soothe the 

125 sorrows of a comrade, with the loyalty of a knightly 
friendship; and thou couldst love with all the cender 
sweetness that lies in the heart of woman; and thou 
couldst cling in fight to thy enemy, with the anger of a 
loving hate; and thou didst not love life too much for 

130 honor; and thou didst not fear death so much but thou 



The Swamp Fox 25 

couldst brave him with a laugh and a song, even in the 
crossing of the spears! Verily, George Dennison, I will 
remember thee, and preserve thy rude ballads, made by 
thee for thy comrades' ears in the swamps of Carolina, so 
that other ears shall hear them, who knew thee not. 135 
Thou shalt tell them now, of the life led by thee and thy 
comrades for long seasons, when thou hast followed the 
fortunes of the famous Swamp Fox: 



THE SWAMP FOX 

I 
We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 

His friends and merry men are we; 
And when the troop of Tarleton rides, 

We burrow in the cypress tree. 
The turfy hammock is our bed. 

Our home is in the red-deer's den, 
Our roof, the tree-top overhead, 

For we are wild and hunted men. 

II 

We fly by day, and shun its Hght, 

But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, 
We mount, and start with early night. 

And through the forest track our foe. 
And soon he hears our chargers leap, 

The flashing sabre blinds his eyes, 
And ere he drives away his sleep 

And rushes from his camp, he dies. 

Ill 
Free bridle-bit, good gallant steed. 
That will not ask a kind caress, 



26 Southern Literary Readings 

To swim the Santee at our need, 
When on his heels the f oemen press — 

The true heart and the ready hand, 
The spirit, stubborn to be free — 

The twisted bore, the smiting brand— 
And we are Marion's men, you see. 

IV 

Now light the fire, and cook the meal, 

The last, perhaps, that we shall taste; 
I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal. 

And that 's a sign we move in haste. 
He whistles to the scouts, and hark ! 

You hear his order calm and low — 
Come, wave your torch across the dark. 

And let us see the boys that go. 

V 

We may not see their forms again, 

God help 'em, should they find the strife ! 
For they are strong and fearless men, 

And make no coward terms for life : 
They '11 fight as long as Marion bids. 

And when he speaks the word to shy. 
Then — not till then — they turn their steeds. 

Through thickening shade and swamp to fly. 

VI 

Now stir the fire, and lie at ease, 

The scouts are gone, and on the brush 
I see the colonel bend his knees. 

To take his slumbers too — but hush! 
He's praying, comrades: 'tis not strange; 

The man that 's fighting day by day. 
May well, when night comes, take a change. 

And down upon his knees to pray. 



The Swamp Fox 2y 

VII 

Break up that hoecake, boys, and hand 

The sly and silent jug that's there; 
I love not it should idly stand, 

When Marion's men have need of cheer. 
'Tis seldom that our luck affords 

A stuff like this we just have quaffed, 
And dry potatoes on our boards i 

May always call for such a draught. 

VIII 

Now pile the brush and roll the log: 

Hard pillow, but a soldier's head, 
That 's half the time in brake and bog, 

Must never think of softer bed. < 

The owl is hooting to the night, 

The cooter crawling o'er the bank. 
And in that pond the plashing light, 

Tells where the alligator sank. 

IX 

What — 'tis the signal! start so soon, i 

And through the Santee swamp so deep, 
Without the aid of friendly moon. 

And we. Heaven help us, half asleep ! 
But courage, comrades ! Marion leads. 

The Swamp Fox takes us out to-night ; : 

So clear your swords, and spur your steeds. 

There's goodly chance, I think, of fight. 

X 

We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 
We leave the swamp and cypress tree, 

Otir spurs are in oiu* coursers' sides, 3 

And ready for the strife are we — 



28 Southern Literary Readings 

The tory camp is now in sight, 
And there he cowers within his den — 

He hears oiir shout, he dreads the fight, 
He fears, and flies from Marion's men. 



THE GRAPE-VINE SWING 

Lithe and long as the serpent train, 

Springing and cHnging from tree to tree, 
Now darting upward, now down again, 

With a twist and a twirl that are strange to see : 
6 Never took serpent a deadlier hold. 

Never the cougar a wilder spring, 
Strangling the oak with the boa's fold, 

Spanning the beech with the condor's wing. 

Yet no foe that we fear to seek — 
10 The boy leaps wild to thy rude embrace 

Thy bulging arms bear as soft a cheek 

As ever on lover's breast found place: 
On thy waving train is a playful hold 
Thou shalt never to lighter grasp persuade; 
16 While a maiden sits in thy drooping fold. 

And swings and sings in the noonday shade ! 

Oh ! giant strange of our southern woods, 
I dream of thee still in the well-known spot. 

Though our vessel strains o 'er the ocean floods, 
20 And the northern forest beholds thee not; 

I think of thee still with a sweet regret. 
As the cordage yields to my playful grasp — 

Dost thou spring and cling in our woodlands yet? 
Does the maiden still swing in thy giant clasp? 




From a rare lithograph portrait made in 185Q by F. J. Fisher, 
now in possession of the Westmoreland Club, Richmond, Va. 

EDGAR ALLA"^[ POE 



EDGAR ALLAN POE 

Edgar Allan Poe, though descended on his father's side 
from a distinguished Maryland family, once called himself 
a Bostonian because he was bom in the city of Boston. 
His father, David Poe, was educated for the law, but 
a predilection for the stage led him to join a traveling 
theatrical troupe before he had built up a practice. 
In this troupe he met Mrs. C. D. Hopkins, an actress of 
English extraction, whose maiden name was Elizabeth 
Arnold. Shortly after the death of Mr. Hopkins, who was 
manager of the company, David Poe married the widow. 
Of the three children — two boys and a girl — born to David 
and EHzabeth Arnold Poe, Edgar was the second son. 

The life of these strolling actors was a hard one. The 
family was forced to travel from city to city in order to 
earn a livelihood which was at best precarious. It seems 
that the mother was depended upon to support the 
family, for David Poe was not a successful actor. Mrs. 
Poe was filling an engagement in Boston at the time of 
Edgar's birth, January 19, 1809. Her husband died about 
1 8 1 o, and in 1 8 1 1 she found herself in the city of Richmond, 
Virginia, helpless and stricken with illness. An appeal 
in the Richmond newspapers brought such material relief 
as could be offered; but Mrs. Poe was beyond human aid, 
and within a few days she died. The children, thus 
left alone, were cared for by various persons. Edgar had 
attracted the attention of Mrs. John Allan, the wife of a 
well-to-do tobacco merchant, and he was taken into her 
childless home and rechristened Edgar Allan Poe. 

The boy was an extremely bright and handsome child, 
and his precocity attracted much attention. Mr. and 
Mrs. Allan became devotedly attached to their ward and 
lavished on him all that partiality could suggest or wealth 
supply. In 1 8 1 5 Mr. Allan moved temporarily to England, 
to establish there a branch house for his firm. Edgar, 
who accompanied his foster parents, attended an English 

[29] 



^0 Southern Literary Readings 

boarding school near London. In the story of William 
Wilson Poe gives many reminiscences of his school life 
there. After five years in England, the Allans returned 
to Richmond, and Edgar was placed in a private school. 
In 1826 he was sent to the University of Virginia. Here 
he made a brilliant record in the languages and in mathe- 
matics, but he indulged in drinking and gambling and was 
removed from the university within a year. 

Then began the period of wandering and unhappiness 
brought about by his perverse disposition. Mr. Allan, 
whose patience had already been sorely tried, took Poe 
into his office, feeling it would be better for the boy to 
earn his own living; whereupon Poe, who was now about 
eighteen years old, left home to seek his fortune in Boston. 
Here he succeeded in getting a publisher for his first 
slender voltime of verses, Tamerlane and Other Poems, in 
1827, but little is known of his movements during the 
time he was in Boston. 

The next we hear of Poe, he has enlisted, under the 
assumed name of Edgar A. Perry, as a private in the 
United States Army. He remained in the army for 
nearly two years, being promoted to the post of sergeant 
major. Part of the time he was stationed at the arsenal 
of Fort Moultrie, on an island in Charleston Harbor. 
Here he gained the local color for his famous story 
written some years later, The Gold Bug. Poe now 
began to feel the folly of his breach with his foster parents, 
and on hearing that Mrs. Allan was critically ill he 
made application for a permit to visit Richmond, in 
order that he might see her before her death. A partial 
reconciliation followed between him and Mr. Allan, who 
secured Poe's release from the army, and with the aid 
of influential friends obtained for him an appointment to 
the United States Military Academy at West Point. But 
the perversity of the young man's nattire again asserted 
itself, and in less than a year he began to tire of life at 
West Point. He deliberately neglected his duties until he 
had acciimulated demerits enough to cause his dismissal. 

Before he entered West Point, another edition of his 
poems, containing some new matter, had been published; 
and in 1831 still another was brought out. This volume 



Edgar Allan Poe ji 

contained the first draft of some of Poe's most famous 
poems, notably To Helen and IsrafeL 

Mr. Allan had married again by this time, and Poe, 
finding that he had no longer any hope of a reconciliation 
with his foster parent, now turned to his father's relatives 
for help and sympathy. He made various attempts to 
secure emplo3ntnent, but was unsuccessful. In 1833 he 
won with his MS. Found in a Bottle the hundred-dollar 
prize ofi^ered by the Baltimore Saturday Visitor for the best 
short story submitted. Poe sent in several stories and 
poems, and won two prizes, the second being fifty dollars 
for the best poem; but the judges refused to give both 
prizes to one competitor. 

It was at this period of his life that Poe's love for his 
cousin Virginia Clemm sprang up. She was a beautiful 
girl twelve or thirteen years of age at the time, and Poe 
desired even then to make her his wife. In 1836, when 
he had secured regular employment as editor of the 
Southern Literary Messenger of Richmond, Mrs. Clemm 
moved to that city, and Poe and Virginia were manied, 
the latter being then not quite fourteen years old. Poe 
had a fixed salary now, and his success seemed assiu*ed. 
His articles, stories, and poems were attracting wide 
notice, and the circulation of the Messenger was rapidly 
increasing. But in 1 83 7 , perhaps on account of his irregular 
habits, he retired from the editorship which he had so 
acceptably filled for a year or more. 

Other editorial schemes were now tried. Poe went 
first to New York, then to Philadelphia, and did some 
literary hack work. In 1839 he obtained an editorial 
position on Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, but within a 
year he severed his connection with this periodical. . He 
published in 1839 a volume of short stories called Tales 
of the Grotesque and Arabesque. This volimie brought 
him no money, but it broadened his fame. In 1841 he 
became editor of Graham's Magazine, and within a few 
months the circulation of this periodical increased from 
five thousand to thirty-seven thousand. Poe was now 
publishing some of his most original short stories, such as 
The Murders in the Rue Morgue, The Masque 0} the Red 
Death, and others. 



^2 Southern Literary Readings 

In 1842 the erratic editor of Graham's Magazine was 
supplanted by R. W. Griswold. The story goes that Poe 
disappeared for a few days, as was his peculiar custom, 
and when he returned to the office he found Griswold 
seated in the editorial chair. Without waiting for 
explanations, he turned on his heel and left the office. 
Poe, however, continued to be a contributor to this peri- 
odical, and was on friendly terms with the owner. 

Other ventures in editorial work and original schemes 
for founding an independent magazine occupied Poe at 
this time, but he seems never to have been able to put his 
plans into operation or to get on in the world. He gained 
wide fame through The Raven j which was published in 
1845, ^^d ^ ^6W edition of his verses with this poem lead- 
ing in the title was issued in the fall of the same year. 
The next year, he took up his residence in the famous 
cottage at Fordham, near New York. Here he tried to 
make a living by his contributions to various magazines, 
but he was continually yielding to his taste for drink 
and the use of opium. His health failed, and the whole 
family was for a time dependent upon public charity. 

In 1847 his young wife died. From this time on to 
the end of his life, Poe seems to have been a broken- 
hearted and hopeless man. Once or twice he made a real 
effort to throw off the terrible gloom and the distressing 
habits which had gained such a grip on him. His genius 
had not yet been exhausted, for he produced in these 
last years some of his most exquisite lyric poems, such 
as Ulalume, The Bells, and Annabel Lee. He was unable 
to make a living, however. He tried to earn something 
by lecturing, but he failed to attract an audience in New 
York. He then went South, and here he met with more 
success. At Richmond his friends rallied to his support, 
and in a benefit lecture he realized about fifteen hundred 
dollars. He intended to return to New York, where Mrs. 
Clemm was anxiously waiting to hear from him and learn 
his plans, but he never reached that city. Mystery hangs 
about his last days. No one knows what happened to 
him after he left Richmond on September 30, 1849. When 
his friends found him three days later, he was lying 
unconscious in a saloon which had been used as one of 



Edgar Allan Poe jj 

the ward polling places in a city election at Baltimore. 
The physician who attended him, and had him taken 
to Washington Hospital, testified that Poe was not drunk 
but drugged. The theory now generally accepted is that 
he fell into the hands of a corrupt electioneering gang, 
was drugged and robbed, and then carried around from 
polling place to polling place and made to vote under 
false names. On Sunday morning, October 7, 1849, "the 
ill-starred poet passed quietly away. 

Such was the life of the strangest and most unfortu- 
nate of all American men of letters. There are those 
who condemn Poe as an ingrate, a degenerate, a repro- 
bate; but those more charitably inclined consider him an 
unfortunate son of genius who was unable, from his very 
nature, to control his actions. That he was unreliable, 
erratic, intemperate, his most ardent admirers will not 
deny. That he was dishonest, immoral, or licentious, his 
enemies will hesitate to affirm. That he was his own 
worst enemy, all will readily admit. His life is one to 
point a moral. 

Poe's life story attracts us both because of its mystery 
and because of its pathos. As to his literary power, there 
is but one opinion. Abroad he is generally considered 
the greatest of American poets, and there are many in 
our own country who accept this judgment without ques- 
tion. His poetry has in it a quality of mystery and 
illusiveness, a peculiar beauty of harmony and rhythm, 
a haunting weirdness of melody, that make it a distinct 
and original type; his critical works, though many of 
them were written as mere ** pot-boilers," have won con- 
sideration among scholars ; he is given credit for creating 
the modem detective or ratiocinative story; and as a 
writer of tales of mystery and horror he is acknowledged 
to be without a peer. 

"(There are many books and essays on Poe, but the authoritative 
biography is that by George E. Woodberry, published in two 
volumes, in 1909.) 



THE GOLD BUG 

"What ho! what ho! this fellow is dancing mad! 
He hath been bitten by the Tarantula." 

— All in the Wrong. 

Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. 
William Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, 
and had once been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes 
had reduced him to want. To avoid the mortification 

5 consequent upon his disasters, he left New Orleans, the 
city of his forefathers, and took up his residence at 
Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. 

This island is a very singular one. It consists of little 
else than the sea sand, and is about three miles long. Its 

10 breadth at no point exceeds a quarter of a mile. It is 
separated from the main-land by a scarcely perceptible 
creek, oozing its way through a wilderness of reeds and 
slime, a favorite resort of the marsh-hen. The vegeta- 
tion, as might be supposed, is scant, or at least dwarfish. No 

15 trees of any magnitude are to be seen. Near the western 
extremity, where Fort Moultrie stands, and where are some 
miserable frame buildings, tenanted during summer by the 
fugitives from Charleston dust and fever, may be found, 
indeed, the bristly palmetto ; but the whole island, with the 

20 exception of this western point, and a line of hard white 
beach on the seacoast, is covered with a dense under- 
growth of the sweet myrtle, so much prized by the horti- 
culturists of England. The shrub here often attains the 
height of fifteen or twenty feet, and forms an almost 

25 impenetrable coppice, btirdening the air with its fragrance. 

In the utmost recesses of this coppice, not far from the 

eastern or more remote end of the island, Legrand had 

l34] 



The Cold Bug jj 

built himself a small hut, which he occupied when I first, 
by mere accident, made his acquaintance. This soon 
ripened into friendship — for there was much in the recluse 30 
to excite interest and esteem. I found him well educated, 
with unusual powers of mind, but infected with misan- 
thropy, and subject to perverse moods of alternate 
enthusiasm and melancholy. He had with him many 
books, but rarely employed them. His chief amusements 35 
were gunning and fishing, or sauntering along the beach and 
through the myrtles, in quest of shells or entomological 
specimens; — his collection of the latter might have been 
envied by a Swammerdamm. In these excursions he was 
usually accompanied by an old negro, called Jupiter, who 40 
had been manumitted before the reverses of the family, 
but who could be induced, neither by threats nor by prom- 
ises, to abandon what he considered his right of attendance 
upon the footsteps of his young ''Massa Will." It is not 
improbable that the relatives of Legrand, conceiving him 45 
to be somewhat unsettled in intellect, had contrived to 
instil this obstinacy into Jupiter, with a view to the super- 
vision and guardianship of the wanderer. 

The winters in the latitude of Sullivan's Island are 
seldom very severe, and in the fall of the year it is a rare 50 
event indeed when a fire is considered necessary. About 
the middle of October, 18 — , there occurred, however, a 
day of remarkable chilliness. Just before sunset I scram- 
bled my way through the evergreens to the hut of my 
friend, whom I had not visited for several weeks — my 55 
residence being at that time in Charleston, a distance of 
nine miles from the island, while the facilities of passage 
and re-passage were very far behind those of the present 
day. Upon reaching the hut I rapped, as was my custom, 
and, getting no reply, sought for the key where I knew eo 
it was secreted, unlocked the door and went in. A fine 



36 Southern Literary Readings 

fire was blazing upon the hearth. It was a novelty, and 
by no means an tmgratefiil one. I threw off an overcoat, 
took an armchair by the crackling logs, and awaited 

65 patiently the arrival of my hosts. 

Soon after dark they arrived, and gave me a most cor- 
dial welcome. Jupiter, grinning from ear to ear, bustled 
about to prepare some marsh-hens for supper. Legrand 
was in one of his fits — how else shall I term them? — 

70 of enthusiasm. He had found an unknown bivalve, 
forming a new genus, and, more than this, he had htmted 
down and secured, with Jupiter's assistance, a scarahceus 
which he believed to be totally new, but in respect to 
which he wished to have my opinion on the morrow. 

75 "And why not to-night?" I asked, rubbing my hands 
over the blaze. 

"Ah, if I had only known you were here ! " said Legrand, 
"but it's so long since I saw you; and how could I foresee 
that you would pay me a visit this very night of all others ? 

so As I was coming home I met Lieutenant G , from the 

fort, and, very foolishly, I lent him the bug; so it will be 
impossible for you to see it until the morning. Stay here 
to-night, and I will send Jup down for it at sunrise. It is 
the loveliest thing in creation!" 

85 "What?— sunrise?" 

"Nonsense! no! — the bug. It is of a brilliant gold 
color — about the size of a large hickory-nut — with two jet 
black spots near one extremity of the back, and another, 
somewhat longer, at the other. The antennae are — " 

90 "Dey aint no tin in him, Massa Will, I keep a tellin 
on you," here interrupted Jupiter; "de bug is a goole- 
bug, solid, ebery bit of him, inside and all, sep him wing — 
neber feel half so hebby a bug in my life." 

"Well, suppose it is, Jup," replied Legrand, somewhat 

95 more earnestly, it seemed to me, than the case demanded, 



The Gold Bug J7 

"is that any reason for your letting the birds bum? The 
color" — here he turned to me — "is really almost enough 
to warrant Jupiter's idea. You never saw a more bril- 
liant metallic lustre than the scales emit — but of this you 
cannot judge till to-morrow. In the mean time I can give loo 
you some idea of the shape." Saying this, he seated him- 
self at a small table, on which were a pen and ink, but no 
paper. He looked for some in a drawer, but found none. 

"Never mind," said he at length, "this will answer"; 
and he drew from his waistcoat pocket a scrap of what 105 
I took to be very dirty foolscap, and made upon it a rough 
drawing with the pen. While he did this, I retained my seat 
by the fire, for I was still chilly. When the design was com- 
plete, he handed it to me without rising. As I received 
it, a low growl was heard, succeeded by a scratching at no 
the door. Jupiter opened it, and a large Newfoundland, 
belonging to Legrand, rushed in, leaped upon my shoulders, 
and loaded me with caresses, tor I had shown him much 
attention during previous visits. When his gambols were 
over, I looked at the paper, and, to speak the truth, found us 
myself not a little puzzled at what my friend had depicted. 

"Well!" I said, after contemplating it for some min- 
utes, "this is a strange scarabcBUs, I must confess; new to 
me: never saw anything like it before — unless it was a 
skull, or a death's-head, which it more nearly resembles 120 
than anything else that has come under my observation." 

"A death's-head!" echoed Legrand — "Oh — yes — ^well, 
it has something of that appearance upon paper, no doubt. 
The two upper black spots look like eyes, eh? and the 
longer one at the bottom like a mouth — and then the 125 
shape of the whole is oval." 

"Perhaps so," said I; "but, Legrand, I fear you are 
no artist. I must wait until I see the beetle itself, if I am 
to form any idea of its personal appearance." 



j8 Southern Literary Readings 

130 "Well, I don't know," said he, a little nettled, "I draw 
tolerably — should do it at least — have had good masters, 
and flatter myself that I am not quite a blockhead." 

"But, my dear fellow, you are joking then," said I, 
"this is a very passable skull, — indeed, I may say that it 

135 is a very excellent skull, according to the vulgar notions 
about such specimens of physiology — and your scarahceus 
must be the queerest scarahceus in the world if it resembles 
it. Why, we may get up a very thrilling bit of super- 
stition upon this hint. I presume you will call the bug 

m scUrabceus caput hominis, or something of that kind — 
there are many similar titles in the Natural Histories. 
But where are the antennae you spoke of ? " 

"The antenncef' said Legrand, who seemed to be getting 
unaccoimtably warm upon the subject; "I am sure you 

H5must see the antennce. I made them as distinct as they 
are in the original insect, and I presume that is sufficient. " 
"Well, well," I said, "perhaps you have — still I don't 
see them"; and I handed him the paper without addi- 
tional remark, not wishing to ruffle his temper; but I was 

150 much surprised at the turn affairs had taken; his ill 
humor puzzled me — and, as for the drawing of the beetle, 
there were positively no antennce visible, .and the whole 
did bear a very close resemblance to the ordinary cuts 
of a death's-head. 

155 He received the paper very peevishly, and was about 
to cnmiple it, apparently to throw it in the fire, when a 
casual glance at the design seemed suddenly to rivet his 
attention. In an instant his face grew violently red — in 
another as excessively pale. For some minutes he contin- 

160 ued to scrutinize the drawing minutely where he sat. At 
length he arose, took a candle from the table, and pro- 
ceeded to seat himself upon a sea-chest in the farthest 
corner of the room. Here again he made an anxious 



The Gold Bug ^0 

examination of the paper; turning it in all directions. 
He said nothing, however, and his conduct greatly aston- i65 
ished me; yet I thought it prudent not to exacerbate 
the growing moodiness of his temper by any comment. 
Presently he took from his coat pocket a wallet, placed the 
paper carefidly in it, and deposited both in a writing-desk, 
which he locked. He now grew more composed in his no 
demeanor; but his original air of enthusiasm had quite 
disappeared. Yet he seemed not so much sulky as ab- 
stracted. As the evening wore away he became more and 
more absorbed in revery, from which no sallies of mine 
could arouse him. It had been my intention to pass the 175 
night at the hut, as I had frequently done before, but, seeing 
my host in this mood, I deemed it proper to take leave. 
He did not press me to remain, but, as I departed, he 
shook my hand with even more than his usual cordiality. 

It was about a month after this (and during the interval iso 
I had seen nothing of Legrand) when I received a visit, 
at Charleston, from his man, Jupiter. I had never seen 
the good old negro look so dispirited, and I feared that 
some serious disaster had befallen my friend. 

**Well, Jup," said I, ''what is the matter now? — howiss 
is your master?" 

"Why, to speak de troof, massa, him not so berry well 
as mought be." 

'* Not well ! I am truly sorry to hear it. What does he 
complain of?" 190 

"Dar! dat's it! — him neber plain of notin — but him 
berry sick for all dat," 

''Very sick, Jupiter! — why didn't you say so at once? 
Is he confined to bed?" 

"No, dat he aint! — he aint find nowhar — dat's just 195 
whar de shoe pinch — my mind is got to be berry hebby 
bout poor Massa Will . ' ' 



40 Southern Literary Readings 

"Jupiter, I should like to understand what it is you are 
talking about. You say your master is sick. Hasn't he 
200 told you what ails him?" 

"Why, massa, taint worf while for to git mad bout de 

matter — Massa Will say noffin at all aint de matter wid 

him — but den what make him go about looking dis here 

way, wid he head down and he soldiers up, and as white 

205 as a gose? And den he keep a syphon all de time — " 

"Keeps a what, Jupiter?" 

* ' Keeps a syphon wid de figgurs on de slate — de queerest 

figgurs I ebber did see. Ise gittin to be skeered, I tell you. 

Hab for to keep mighty tight eye pon him noovers. Tod- 

210 der day he gib me slip fore de sun up, and was gone de 

whole ob de blessed day. I had a big stick ready cut for 

to gib him good beating when he did come — but Ise sich a 

fool dat I hadn't de heart arter all — he look so berry 

poorly." 

216 "Eh? — what? — ah yes! — upon the whole I think you 

had better not be too severe with the poor fellow — don't 

flog him, Jupiter — he can't very well stand it — but can 

you form no idea of what has occasioned this illness, or 

rather this change of conduct ? Has anything unpleasant 

220 happened since I saw you?" 

"No, massa, dey aint bin noffin onpleasant since den — 
'twas /of^ den I'm feared — 'twas de berry day you was 
dare." 

"How? what do you mean?" 
225 "Why, massa, I mean de bug — dare now." 
- "The what?" 

"De bug — I'm berry sartain dat Massa Will bin bit 
somewhere bout de head by dat goole-bug." 

"And what cause have you, Jupiter, for such a 
230 supposition?" 

"Claws enuff, massa, and mouff too. I nebber did see 



The Gold Bug 41 

sich a bug — he kick and he bite ebery ting what cum near 
him. Massa Will cotch him fuss, but had for to let him 
go gin mighty quick, I tell you — den was de time he must 
ha got de bite. I didn't like de look ob de bug mouff, 235 
myself, no how, so I wouldn't take hold ob him wid my 
finger, but I cotch him wid a piece ob paper dat I found. 
I rap him up in de paper and stuff piece ob it in he mouff — 
dat was de way." 

"And you think, then, that your master was really 240 
bitten by the beetle, and that the bite made him sick?" 

"I don't tink noffin about it — I nose it. What make 
him dream bout de goole so much, if taint cause he bit by 
de goole-bug? Ise heerd bout dem goole-bugs fore dis." 

"But how do you know he dreams about gold? " 245 

" How I know? why, cause he talk about it in he sleep — 
dat's how I nose." 

"Well, Jup, perhaps you are right; but to what fortunate 
circumstance am I to attribute the honor of a visit from 
you to-day?" 250 

' ' What de matter, massa ? ' * 

"Did you bring any message from Mr. Legrand?" 

"No, massa, I bring dis here pissel"; and here Jupiter 
handed me a note which ran thus : 

"My Dear , 255 

"Why have I not seen you for so long a time? I hope you have 
not been so foolish as to take offense at any little brusquerie of 
mine; but no, that is improbable. 

"Since I saw you I have had great cause for anxiety. I have 
something to tell you, yet scarcely know how to tell it, or whether 260 
I should tell it at all. 

"I have not been quite well for some days past, and poor old 
Jup annoys me, almost beyond endurance, by his well-meant atten- 
tions. Would you believe it? — he had prepared a huge stick, the 
other day, with which to chastise me for giving him the slip, and 265 
spending the day, solus, among the hills on the main-land. I verily 
believe that my ill looks alone saved me a flogging. 



^ Southern Literary Readings 

"I have made no addition to my cabinet since we met. 
"If you can, in any way, make it convenient, come over with 
270 Jupiter. Do come. I wish to see you to-night^ upon business of 
importance. I assure you that it is of the highest importance. 

"Ever yours, 

"William Legrand." 

There was something in the tone of this note which gave 
275 me great uneasiness. Its whole style differed materially 
from that of Legrand. What could he be dreaming of? 
What new crotchet possessed his excitable brain? What 
"business of the highest importance" could he possibly 
have to transact? Jupiter's account of him boded no 
280 good. I dreaded lest the continued pressure of misfortune 
had, at length, fairly unsettled the reason of my friend. 
Without a moment's hesitation, therefore, I prepared to 
accompany the negro. 

Upon reaching the wharf, I noticed a scythe and three 
285 spades, all apparently new, lying in the bottom of the boat 
in which we were to embark. 

*' What is the meaning of all this, Jup? " I inquired. 
"Him S3^e, massa, and spade." 
"Very true; but what are they doing here?" 
290 "Him de syfe and de spade what Massa Will sis pon my 
buying for him in de town, and de debbil's own lot of 
money I had to gib for em." 

"But what, in the name of all that is mysterious, is 
your 'Massa Will' going to do with sc3rthes and spades?" 
295 "Dat's more dan I know, and I blieve 'tis more dan 
he know, too. But it's all cum ob de bug." 

Finding that no satisfaction was to be obtained of 

Jupiter, whose whole intellect seemed to be absorbed by 

"de bug," I now stepped into the boat and made sail. 

300 With a fair and strong breeze we soon ran into the little 

cove to the northward of Fort Moultrie, and a walk of 



The Gold Bug 4J 

some two miles brought us to the hut. It was about 
three in the afternoon when we arrived. Legrand had 
been awaiting us in eager expectation. He grasped my 
hand with a nervous empressement, which alarmed me and 305 
strengthened the suspicions already entertained. His 
countenance was pale even to ghastliness, and his deep-set 
eyes glared with unnatural lustre. After some inquiries 
respecting his health, I asked him, not knowing what 
better to say, if he had yet obtained the scarahcBus from 310 
Lieutenant G . 

"Oh, yes," he replied, coloring violently, **I got it from 
him the next morning. Nothing should tempt me to part 
with that scarahcBUs. Do you know that Jupiter is quite 
right about it ! " 315 

" In what way ? " I asked, with a sad foreboding at heart. 

"In supposing it to be a bug of real gold.'* He said this 
with an air of profound seriousness, and I felt inexpressibly 
shocked. 

"This bug is to make my fortune," he continued, with 320 
a triumphant smile, "to reinstate me in my family pos- 
sessions. Is it any wonder, then, that I prize it? Since 
Fortune has thought fit to bestow it upon me, I have only 
to use it properly and I shall arrive at the gold of which it 
is the index. Jupiter, bring me that scarabceus! " 325 

"What! de bug, massa? I 'd rudder not go fer trubble 
dat bug — you mus git him for your own self." Hereupon 
Legrand arose, with a grave and stately air, and brought 
me the beetle from a glass case in which it was enclosed. 
It was a beautiful scarabceus, and, at that time, unknown 330 
to naturalists — of course a great prize in a scientific point 
of view. There were two round, black spots near one 
extremity of the back, and a long one near the other. The 
scales were exceedingly hard and glossy, with all the 
appearance of burnished gold. The weight of the insect 335 



44 Southern Literary Readings 

was very remarkable, and, taking all things into consider- 
ation, I coiild hardly blame Jupiter for his opinion respect- 
ing it ; but what to make of Legrand's agreement with that 
opinion, I could not, for the life of me, tell. 
340 "I sent for you," said he, in a grandiloquent tone, when 
I had completed my examination of the beetle, ** I sent for 
you, that I might have your counsel and assistance in 
furthering the views of Fate and of the bug — " 

"Mydear Legrand," I cried, interrupting him, "you are 
345 certainly unwell, and had better use some little precau- 
tions. You shall go to bed, and I will remain with you a 
few days, until you get over this. You are feverish and — ' ' 

"Feel my piilse," said he. 

I felt it, and, to say the truth, found not the slightest 
350 indication of fever. 

"But you may be ill, and yet have no fever. Allow 
me this once to prescribe for you. In the first place, go 
to bed. In the next — " 

"You are mistaken," he interposed, "I am as well as I 

355 can expect to be under the excitement which I suffer. If 

you really wish me well, you will relieve this excitement." 

"And how is this to be done?" 

"Very easily. Jupiter and myself are going upon an 
expedition into the hills, upon the main-land, and,ln this 
360 expedition, we shall need the aid of some person in whom 
we can confide. You are the only one we can trust. 
Whether we succeed or fail, the excitement which you now 
perceive in me will be equally allayed." 

"I am anxious to oblige you in any way," I replied; 
365 "but do you mean to say that this infernal beetle has any 
connection with your expedition into the hills?" 

"It has." 

"Then, Legrand, I can become a party to no such 
absurd proceeding." 



The Gold Bug 45 

'*I am sorry — very sorry — for we shall have to try it 370 
by ourselves." 

"Try it by yourselves! The man is stirely mad! — but 
stay — how long do you propose to be absent?" 

"Probably all night. We shall start immediately, and 
be back, at all events, by simrise." 375 

"And will you promise me, upon your honor, that when 
this freak of yours is over, and the bug business settled 
to your satisfaction, you will then return home and follow 
my advice implicitly, as that of your physician?" 

"Yes; I promise; and now let us be off, for we have no aso 
time to lose." 

With a heavy heart I accompanied my friend. We 
started about four o'clock — Legrand, Jupiter, the dog, and 
myself. Jupiter had with him the scythe and spades — the 
whole of which he insisted upon carrying, more through m 
fear, it seemed to me, of trusting either of the implements 
within reach of his master, than from any excess of indus- 
try or complaisance. His demeanor was dogged in the 
extreme, and "dat deuced bug" were the sole words which 
escaped his lips during the journey. For my own part, 1 390 
had charge of a couple of dark lanterns, while Legrand 
contented himself with the scarahceusy which he carried 
attached to the end of a bit of whip-cord; twirling it to 
and fro, with the air of a conjurer, as he went. When I 
observed this last, plain evidence of my friend's aberration 395 
of mind, I could scarcely refrain from tears. I thought it 
best, however, to himior his fancy, at least for the present, 
or until I could adopt some more energetic measures with 
a chance of success. In the mean time I endeavored, but 
all in vain, to sound him in regard to the object of the 400 
expedition. Having succeeded in inducing me to accom- 
pany him, he seemed unwilHng to hold conversation 
upon any topic of minor importance, and to all my 



46 Southern Literary Readings 

questions vouchsafed no other reply than "we shall see!" 

406 We crossed the creek at the head of the island by means 
of a skiff, and, ascending the high grounds on the shore of 
the main-land, proceeded in a northwesterly direction, 
through a tract of country excessively wild and deso- 
late, where no trace of a human footstep was to be seen. 

4ioLegrand led the way with decision; pausing only for an 
instant, here and there, to consult what appeared to be 
certain landmarks of his own contrivance upon a former 
occasion. 

In this manner we journeyed for about two hours, and 

416 the sun was just setting when we entered a region infinitely 
more dreary than any yet seen. It was a species of table- 
land, near the summit of an almost inaccessible hill, 
densely wooded from base to pinnacle, and interspersed 
with huge crags that appeared to lie loosely upon the soil, 

420 and in many cases were prevented from precipitating 
themselves into the valleys below merely by the support 
of the trees against which they reclined. Deep ravines, 
in various direction^, gave an air of still sterner solemnity 
to the scene. 

425 The natural platform to which we had clambered was 
thickly overgrown with brambles, through which we soon 
discovered that it would have been impossible to force 
our way but for the scythe ; and Jupiter, by direction of his 
master, proceeded to clear for us a path to the foot of an 

430 enormously tall tulip-tree, which stood, with some eight or 
ten oaks, upon the level, and far surpassed them all, and 
all other trees which I had then ever seen, in the beauty 
of its foliage and form, in the wide spread of its branches, 
and in the general majesty of its appearance. When we 

435 reached this tree, Legrand turned to Jupiter, and asked 
him if he thought he could climb it. The old man seemed a 
little staggered by the question, and for some moments made 



The Gold Bug 4^ 

no reply. At length he approached the huge trunk, walked 
slowly around it, and examined it with minute attention. 
When he Had completed his scrutiny, he merely said: 440 

"Yes, massa, Jup climb any tree he ebber see in he life." 

"Then up with you as soon as possible, for it will soon 
be too dark to see what we are about." 

"How far mus go up, massa?" inquired Jupiter. 

"Get up the main trunk first, and then I will tell you 445 
which way to go — and here — stop! take this beetle with 
you." 

"De bug, Massa Will! — de goole-bug!" cried the negro, 
drawing back in dismay — "what for mus tote de bug way 
up de tree?" 450 

"If you are afraid, Jup, a great big negro like you, to 
take hold of a harmless little dead beetle, why, you can 
carry it up by this string — but, if you do not take it up 
with you in some way, I shall be under the necessity of 
breaking your head with this shovel — " 455 

"What de matter now, massa?" said Jup, evidently 
shamed into compliance; "always want fur to raise fuss 
wid old nigger. Was only funnin anyhow. Me feered de 
bug! what I keer for de bug?" Here he took cautiously 
hold of the extreme end of the string, and, maintaining 46o 
the insect as far from his person as circumstances would 
permit, prepared to ascend the tree. 

In youth, the tulip-tree, or Liriodendron Tulipifera, the 
most magnificent of American foresters, has a trunk pecu- 
liarly smooth, and often rises to a great height without 465 
lateral branches; but, in its riper age, the bark becomes 
gnarled and uneven, while many short limbs make their 
appearance on the stem. Thus the difficulty of ascension, 
in the present case, lay more in semblance than in reality. 
Embracing the huge cylinder, as closely as possible, with 470 
his arms and knees, seizing with his hands some projections 



48 Southern Literary Readings 

and resting his naked toes upon others, Jupiter, after one 
or two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled 
himself into the first great fork, and seemed to consider 
475 the whole business as virtually accomplished. The risk 
of the achievement was, in fact, now over, although the 
climber was some sixty or seventy feet from the ground. 
"Which way mus go now, Massa Will?" he asked. 
"Keep up the largest branch, — the one on this side," 
480 said Legrand. The negro obeyed him promptly, and 
apparently with but little trouble; ascending higher and 
higher, until no glimpse of his squat figure could be 
obtained through the dense foliage which enveloped it. 
Presently his voice was heard in a sort of halloo. 
485 ' * How much f udder is got for go ? " 

"How high up are you?" asked Legrand. 
"Ebber so fur," replied the negro; "can see de sky fru 
de top ob de tree." 

" Never mind the sky, but attend to what I say. Look 
490 down the trunk and count the limbs below you on this 
side. How many lifnbs have you passed ? " 

"One, two, tree, four, fibe — I done pass fibe big limb, 
massa, pon dis side." 

"Then go one limb higher." 
495 In a few minutes the voice was heard again, announcing 
that the seventh limb was attained. 

"Now, Jup," cried Legrand, evidently much excited, 
" I want you to work your way out upon that limb as far 
as you can. If you see anything strange, let me know." 
500 By this time what little doubt I might have entertained 
of my poor friend's insanity was put finally at rest. I had 
no alternative but to conclude him stricken with lunacy, 
and I became seriously anxious about getting him 
home. While I was pondering upon what was best to be 
flos done, Jupiter's voice was again heard. 



The Gold Bug 4g 

**Mos feerd for to ventur pon dis limb berry far — 'tis 
dead limb putty much all de way." 

"Did you say it was a dead limb, Jupiter?" cried 
Legrand, in a quavering voice. 

"Yes, massa, him dead as de door-nail — done up for 510 
sartin — done departed dis here life." 

"What in the name of heaven shall I do?" asked 
Legrand, seemingly in the greatest distress. 

"Do ! " said I, glad of an opportunity to interpose a word, 
"why, come home and go to bed. Come now! — that's a 515 
fine fellow. It 's getting late, and, besides, you remember 
your promise," 

"Jupiter," criea he, without heeding me in the least, 
"do you hear me ? ' 

"Yes, Massa Will, hear you ebber so plain." 520 

"Try the wood well, then, with your knife, and see if 
you think it very rotten." 

" Him rotten, massa, sure nuif , " replied the negro in a few 
moments, * ' but not so berry rotten as mought be. Mought 
ventur out leetle way pon de limb by myself, dat's true." 525 

"By yourself ! — what do you mean ? ' ' 

"Why, I mean de bug. 'Tis berry hebby bug. Spose 
I drop him down fuss, and den de limb won't break wid 
just de weight ob one nigger." 

"You infernal scoundrel!" cried Legrand, apparently 530 
much relieved, "what do you mean by telling me such 
nonsense as that ? As sure as you let that beetle fall, I '11 
break your neck. Look here, Jupiter ! do you hear me ? * * 

"Yes, massa, needn't hollo at poor nigger dat style." 

"Well! now Hsten! — if you will venture out on the limb 535 
as far as you think safe, and not let go the beetle, I '11 make 
you a present of a silver dollar as soon as you get down." 

"I'm gwine, Massa Will — deed I is," replied the negro 
very promptly — "mos out to the eend now." 
4 



^0 Southern Literary Readings 

640 '* Out to the end!'' here fairly screamed Legrand, "do you 
say you are out to the end of that limb ? " 
' * ' Soon be to de eend, massa, — o-o-o-o-oh ! Lor-a-marcy ! 
what is dis here pon de tree? " 

"Well!" cried Legrand, highly delighted, "what is it?" 
545 "Why, taint noffin but a skull — somebody bin lef him 
head up de tree, and de crows done gobble ebery bit ob de 
meat off." 

"A skull, you say! — very well! — how is it fastened to 
the limb? — what holds it on?" 
550 "Sure nuff, massa; mus look. Why, dis berry curous 
sarcumstance, pon my word — dare's a great big nail in 
de skull, what fastens ob it on to de tree." 

"Well now, Jupiter, do exactly as I tell you — do you 
hear?" 
555 "Yes, massa." 

"Pay attention, then! — find the left eye of the skull." 

" Hum ! hoo ! dat 's good ! why, dar aint no eye lef at all." 

"Curse your stupidity! do you know your right hand 

from your lef t ? " 

660 "Yes, I nose dat — nose all bout dat — 'tis my lef hand 

what I chops de wood wid." 

"To be sure! you are left-handed; and your left eye is 
on the same side as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you 
can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where the left 
665 eye has been. Have you found it ? " 

Here was a long pause. At length the negro asked: 
" Is de lef eye of de skull pon de same side as de lef hand 
of de skull, too ? cause de skiill ain't got not a bit ob a hand 
at all — nebber mind! I got de lef eye now — here de lef 
570 eye ! what mus do wid it ? " 

"Let the beetle drop through it, as far as the string will 
reach — but be careful and not let go your hold of the 
string." 



The Gold Bug 51 

**A11 dat done, Massa Will; mighty easy ting for to put 
de bug fru de hole — look out for him dar below!" 575 

During this colloquy no portion of Jupiter's person could 
be seen; but the beetle, which he had suffered to descend, 
was now visible at the end of the string, and glistened, 
like a globe of burnished gold, in the last rays of the setting 
sun, some of which still faintly illumined the eminence sso 
upon which we stood. The scarahcBus hung quite clear 
of any branches, and, if allowed to fall, would have fallen 
at our feet. Legrand immediately took the scythe, and 
cleared with it a circular space, three or four yards in 
diameter, just beneath the insect, and, having accomplished sss 
this, ordered Jupiter to let go the string and come down 
from the tree. 

Driving a peg, with great nicety, into the ground, at 
the precise spot where the beetle fell, my friend now 
produced from his pocket a tape-measure. Fastening one 590 
end of this at that point of the trunk of the tree which was 
nearest the peg, he unrolled it till it reached the peg, and 
thence farther unrolled it, in the direction already estab- 
lished by the two points of the tree and the peg, for the 
distance of fifty feet — ^Jupiter clearing away the brambles 595 
with the scythe. At the spot thus attained a second peg 
was driven, and about this, as a centre, a rude circle, about 
four feet in diameter, described. Taking now a spade 
himself, and giving one to Jupiter and one to me, Legrand 
begged us to set about digging as quickly as possible. eoo 

To speak the truth, I had no especial relish for such 
amusement at any time, and, at that particular moment, 
would most willingly have declined it ; for the night was 
coming on, and I felt much fatigued with the exercise already 
taken ; but I saw no mode of escape, and was fearful of 605 
disturbing my poor friend's equanimity by a refusal. 
Could I have depended, indeed, upon Jupiter's aid, I would 



52 Southern Literary Readings 

have had no hesitation in attempting to get the lunatic 
home by force ; but I was too well assured of the old negro's 

610 disposition to hope that he would assist me, under any 
circumstances, in a personal contest with his master. I 
made no doubt that the latter had been infected with some 
of the innumerable Southern superstitions about money 
buried, and that his fantasy had received confirmation 

615 by the finding of the scarabcBus, or, perhaps, by Jupiter's 
obstinacy in maintaining it to be "a bug of real gold." A 
mind disposed to lunacy would readily be led away by 
such suggestions, especially if chiming in with favorite 
preconceived ideas; and then I called to mind the poor 

620 fellow's speech about the beetle's being "the index of his 
fortune." Upon the whole, I was sadly vexed and puzzled, 
but at length I concluded to make a virtue of necessity — 
to dig with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince 
the visionary, by ocular demonstration, of the fallacy of 

625 the opinions he entertained. 

The lanterns having been lit, we all fell to work with 
a zeal worthy a more rational cause; and, as the glare 
fell upon our persons and implements, I could not help 
thinking how picturesque a group we composed, and how 

630 strange and suspicious our labors must have appeared to 
any interloper who, by chance, might have stumbled upon 
our whereabouts. 

We dug very steadily for two hours. Little was said; 
and our chief embarrassment lay in the yelpings of the dog, 

635 who took exceeding interest in our proceedings. He, at 
length, became so obstreperous, that we grew fearful of his 
giving the alarm to some stragglers in the vicinity; or, 
rather, this was the apprehension of Legrand; for myself, 
I should have rejoiced at any interruption which might 

640 have enabled me to get the wanderer home. The noise 
was, at length, very effectually silenced by Jupiter, who, 



The Gold Bug 53 

getting out of the hole with a dogged air of dehberation, 
tied the brute's mouth up with one of his suspenders, and 
then returned, with a grave chuckle, to his task. 

When the time mentioned had expired, we had reached 645 
a depth of five feet, and yet no signs of any treasure 
became manifest. A general pause ensued, and I began to 
hope that the farce was at an end. Legrand, however, 
although evidently much disconcerted, wiped his brow 
thoughtfully and recommenced. We had excavated the eso 
entire circle of four feet diameter, and now we slightly 
enlarged the limit, and went to the farther depth of two 
feet. Still nothing appeared. The gold-seeker, whom I 
sincerely pitied, at length clambered from the pit, with the 
bitterest disappointment imprinted upon every feature, 655 
and proceeded, slowly and reluctantly, to put on his 
coat, which he had thrown off at the beginning of his 
labor. In the mean time I made no remark. Jupiter, at a 
signal from his master, began to gather up his tools. This 
done, and the dog having been unmuzzled, we turned in m 
profound silence towards home. 

We had taken, perhaps, a dozen steps in this direction, 
when, with a loud oath, Legrand strode up to Jupiter, and 
seized him by the collar. The astonished negro opened his 
eyes and mouth to the fullest extent, let fall the spades, and ees 
fell upon his knees. 

"You scoundrel," said Legrand, hissing out the syllables 
from between his clenched teeth, "you infernal black 
villain! — speak, I tell you! — answer me this instant, 
without prevarication! — which — which is your left eye?" 67o 

"Oh, my, Massa Will! aint dis here my lef eye for 
sartain?" roared the terrified Jupiter, placing his hand 
upon his right organ of vision, and holding it there with 
a desperate pertinacity, as if in immediate dread of his 
master's attempt at a gouge. 675 



54 Southern Literary Readings 

"I thought so! — I knew it! hurrah!" vociferated 

Legrand, letting the negro go, and executing a series of 

curvets and caracoles, much to the astonishment of his 

valet, who, arising from his knees, looked mutely from his 

680 master to myself, and then from myself to his master. 

"Come! we must go back," said the latter, **the game's 
not up yet " ; and he again led the way to the tulip-tree. 

''Jupiter," said he, when we reached its foot, "come 
here! was the skull nailed to the limb with the face out- 
685 ward, or with the face to the limb?" 

"De face was out, massa, so dat de crows could get at 
de eyes good, widout any trouble." 

"Well, then, was it this eye or that through which 
you dropped the beetle?" — here Legrand touched each 
690 of Jupiter's eyes. 

" 'Twas dis eye, massa — de lef eye — jis as you tell me," 
and here it was his right eye that the negro indicated. 

"That will do — we must try it again." 

Here my friend, about whose madness I now saw, or 
695 fancied that I saw, certain indications of method, removed 
the peg which marked the spot where the beetle fell, to a 
spot about three inches to the westward of its former 
position. Taking, now, the tape-measure from the nearest 
point of the trunk to the peg, as before, and continuing 
700 the extension in a straight line to the distance of fifty 
feet, a spot was indicated, removed, by several yards, from 
the point at which we had been digging. 

Around the new position a circle, somewhat larger than 
in the former instance, was now described, and we again 
705 set to work with the spades. I was dreadfully weary, but, 
scarcely understanding what had occasioned the change in 
my thoughts, I felt no longer any great aversion from the 
labor imposed. I had become most unaccountably inter- 
ested — nay, even excited. Perhaps there was something, 



The Gold Bug 55 

amid all the extravagant demeanor of Legrand — some air 710 
of forethought, or of deliberation, which impressed me. 
I dug eagerly, and now and then caught myself actually 
looking, with something that very much resembled expec- 
tation, for the fancied treasure, the vision of which had 
demented my unforttinate companion. At a period when 715 
such vagaries of thought most fully possessed me, and when 
we had been at work perhaps an hour and a half, we were 
again interrupted by the violent howlings of the dog. His 
uneasiness, in the first instance, had been evidently but 
the result of playfulness or caprice, but he now assumed 720 
a bitter and serious tone. Upon Jupiter's again attempting 
to muzzle him, he made ftirious resistance, and, leaping into 
the hole, tore up the mould frantically with his claws. In 
a few seconds he had uncovered a mass of human bones, 
forming two complete skeletons, intermingled with several 725 
buttons of metal, and what appeared to be the dust of 
decayed woollen. One or two strokes of a spade upturned 
the blade of a large Spanish knife, and, as we dug far- 
ther, three or four loose pieces of gold and silver coin came 

to light. 730 

At the sight of these the joy of Jupiter could scarcely be 
restrained, but the countenance of his master wore an air 
of extreme disappointment. He urged us, however, to 
continue our exertions, and the words were hardly uttered 
when I sttimbled and fell forward, having caught the toe of 735 
my boot in a large ring of iron that lay half -buried in the 
loose earth. 

We now worked in earnest, and never did I pass ten min- 
utes of more intense excitement. During this interval 
we had fairly unearthed an oblong chest of wood, which, 740 
from its perfect preservation and wonderful hardness, had 
plainly been subjected to some mineralizing process — 
perhaps that of the bichloride of mercury. This box was 



^6 Southern Literary Readings 

three feet and a half long, three feet broad, and two and 

745 a half feet deep. It was firmly secured by bands of 
wrought iron, riveted, and forming a kind of trellis-work 
over the whole. On each side of the chest, near the top, 
were three rings of iron — six in all — by means of which a 
firm hold could be obtained by six persons. Our utmost 

750 united endeavors served only to disturb the coffer very 
slightly in its bed. We at once saw the impossibility of 
removing so great a weight. Luckily, the sole fastenings 
of the lid consisted of two sliding bolts. These we drew 
back — trembling and panting with anxiety. In an instant, 

755 a treasure of incalculable value lay gleaming before us. As 
the rays of the lanterns fell within the pit, there flashed 
upwards, from a confused heap of gold and of jewels, a glow 
and a glare that absolutely dazzled our eyes. 

I shall not pretend to describe the feelings with which 

760 1 gazed. Amazement was, of course, predominant. 
Legrand appeared exhausted with excitement, and spoke 
very few words. Jupiter's countenance wore, for some 
minutes, as deadly a pallor as it is possible, in the nature of 
things, for any negro's visage to assume. He seemed stupe- 

765fied — thunder-stricken. Presently he fell upon his knees 
in the pit, and, burying his naked arms up to the elbows 
in gold, let them there remain, as if enjoying the luxtiry of 
a bath. At length, with a deep sigh, he exclaimed, as if 
in a soliloquy : 

770 **And dis all cum ob de goole-bug! de putty goole-bug! 
de poor little goole-bug, what I boosed in dat sabage kind 
ob style ! Aint you ashamed ob yourself, nigger? — ansv/er 
me dat!" 

It became necessary, at last, that I should arouse both 

775 master and valet to the expediency of removing the 
treasure. It was growing late, and it behooved us to make 
exertion, that we might get everything housed before 



The Gold Bug 57 

daylight. It was difficult to say what should be done, and 
much time was spent in deliberation — so confused were 
the ideas of all. We finally lightened the box by removing tso 
two thirds of its contents, when we were enabled, with some 
trouble, to raise it from the hole. The articles taken out 
were deposited among the brambles, and the dog left to 
guard them, with strict orders from Jupiter neither, upon 
any pretence, to stir from the spot, nor to open his mouth 785 
until our return. We then hurriedly made for home with 
the chest; reaching the hut in safety, but after excessive 
toil, at one o'clock in the morning. Worn out as we were, 
it was not in human nature to do more just now. We 
rested until two, and had supper; starting for the hills im- 790 
mediately afterwards, armed with three stout sacks, which 
by good luck were upon the premises. A little before 
four we arrived at the pit, divided the remainder of the 
booty, as equally as might be, among us, and, leaving the 
holes unfilled, again set out for the hut, at which, for 795 
the second time, we deposited our golden burdens, just as 
, the first streaks of the dawn gleamed from over the tree- 
tops in the east. 

We were now thoroughly broken down ; but the intense 
excitement of the time denied us repose. After an unquiet sco 
slumber of some three or four hours' duration, we arose, 
as if by preconcert, to make examination of our treasure. 

The chest had been full to the brim, and we spent the 
whole day, and the greater part of the next night, in a 
scrutiny of its contents. There had been nothing like order sos 
or arrangement. Everything had been heaped in promis- 
cuously. Having assorted all with care, we found our- 
selves possessed of even vaster wealth than we had at first 
supposed. In coin there was rather more than four hun- 
dred and fifty thousand dollars : estimating the value of sio 
the pieces, as accurately as we could, by the tables of 



§8 Southern Literary Readings 

the period. There was not a particle of silver. All was 
gold of antique date and of great variety : French, Spanish, 
and German money, with a few English guineas, and 

815 some counters, of which we had never seen specimens 
before. There were several very large and heavy coins, 
so worn that we could make nothing of their inscriptions. 
There was no American money. The value of the jewels 
we found more difficulty in estimating. There were 

820 diamonds — some of them exceedingly large and fine — a 
hundred and ten in all, and not one of them small ; eighteen 
rubies of remarkable brilliancy; three hundred and ten 
emeralds, all very beautiful; and twenty-one sapphires, 
with an opal. These stones had all been broken from their 

825 settings and thrown loose in the chest. The settings 
themselves, which we picked out from among the other 
gold, appeared to have been beaten up with hammers, 
as if to prevent identification. Besides all this, there was 
a vast quantity of solid gold ornaments : nearly two hun- 

83odred massive finger and ear rings; rich chains — thirty 
of these, if I remembes ; eighty-three very large and heavy 
crucifixes; five gold censers of great value; a prodigious 
golden punch-bowl, ornamented with richly chased vine- 
leaves and Bacchanalian figures; with two sword-handles 

835 exquisitely embossed, and many other smaller articles 
which I cannot recollect. The weight of these valuables 
exceeded three hundred and fifty pounds avoirdupois; 
and in this estimate I have not included one hundred and 
ninety-seven superb gold watches; three of the number 

840 being worth each five hundred dollars, if one. Many of 

them were very old, and as time-keepers valueless, the 

works having suffered more or less from corrosion; but all 

were richly jewelled and in cases of great worth. We 

- estimated the entire contents of the chest, that night, at 

845 a million and a half of dollars; and, upon the subsequent 



The Gold Bug ^g 

disposal of the trinkets and jewels -(a few being retained 
for our own use) , it was found that we had greatly under- 
valued the treasure. 

When, at length, we had concluded our examination, 
and the intense excitement of the time had in some measure sso 
subsided, Legrand, who saw that I was dying with impa- 
tience for a solution of this most extraordinary riddle,- 
entered into a full detail of all the circimistances connected 
with it. 

**You remember," said he, *'the night when I handed sss 
you the rough sketch I had made of the scarabcBus. You 
recollect also, that I became quite vexed at you for insisting 
that my drawing resembled a death's-head. When you 
first made this assertion I thought you were jesting; but 
afterwards I called to mind the peculiar spots on the back m 
of the insect, and admitted to myself that your remark 
had some little foundation in fact. Still, the sneer at my 
graphic powers irritated me — for I am considered a good 
artist — and, therefore, when you handed me the scrap of 
parchment, I was about to crumple it up and throw itses 
angrily into the fire." 

"The scrap of paper you mean," said I. 

*'No: it had much of the appearance of paper, and at 
first I supposed it to be such, but when I came to draw upon 
it, I discovered it, at once, to be a piece of very thinsTo 
parchment. It was quite dirty, you remember. Well, 
as I was in the very act of crumpling it up, my glance fell 
upon the sketch at which you had been looking, and you 
may imagine my astonishment when I perceived, in fact, 
the figure of a death's-head just where, it seemed to me, 875 
I had made the drawing of the beetle. For a moment I 
was too much amazed to think with accuracy. I knew 
that my design was very different in detail from this — 
although there was a certain similarity in general outline. 



6o Southern Literary Readings 

880 Presently I took a candle and, seating myself at the other 
end of the room, proceeded to scrutinize the parchment 
more closely. Upon turning it over, I saw my own sketch 
upon the reverse, just as I had made it. My first idea, 
now, was mere surprise at the really remarkable similarity 

885 of outline — at the singular coincidence involved in the 
fact that, unknown to me, there should have been a skull 
upon the other side of the parchment, immediately beneath 
my figure of the scarabcBus, and that this skull, not only in 
outline, but in size, should so closely resemble my drawing. 

890 1 say the singularity of this coincidence absolutely stupefied 
me for a time. This is the usual effect of such coincidences. 
The mind struggles to establish a connection — a sequence 
of cause and effect — and, being unable to do so, suffers a 
species of temporary paralysis. But, when I recovered 

895 from this stupor, there dawned upon me gradually a 
conviction which startled me even far more than the 
coincidence. I began distinctly, positively, to remember 
that there had been no drawing on the parchment when I 
made my sketch of th« scarahceus. I became perfectly cer- 

900 tain of this ; for I recollected turning up first one side and 
then the other, in search of the cleanest spot. Had the 
skull been then there, of course I could not have failed to 
notice it. Here was indeed a mystery which I felt it 
impossible to explain; but, even at that early moment, 

905 there seemed to glimmer, faintly, within the most remote 
and secret chambers of my intellect, a glow-worm-like 
conception of that truth which last night's adventure 
brought to so magnificent a demonstration. I arose at 
once, and, putting the parchment securely away, dismissed 

910 all farther reflection until I should be alone. 

"When you had gone, and when Jupiter was fast 
asleep, I betook myself to a more methodical investigation 
of the affair. In the first place I considered the manner 



The Gold Bug 6i 

in which the parchment had come into my possession. 
The spot where we discovered the scarahcEus was on the 915 
coast of the main-land, about a mile eastward of the island, 
and but a short distance above high-water mark. Upon 
my taking hold of it, it gave me a sharp bite, which 
caused me to let it drop, Jupiter, with his accustomed 
caution, before seizing the insect, 'which had flown towards 920 
him, looked about him for a leaf, or something of that 
nature, by which to take hold of it. It was at this 
moment that his eyes, and mine also, fell upon the scrap 
of parchment, which I then supposed to be paper. It 
was lying half -buried in the sand, a comer sticking up. 925 
Near the spot where we found it, I observed the remnants 
of the hull of what appeared to have been a ship's long 
boat. The wreck seemed to have been there for a very 
great while; for the resemblance to boat timbers could 
scarcely be traced. 930 

"Well, Jupiter picked up the parchment, wrapped the 
beetle in it, and gave it to me. Soon afterwards we turned 

to go home, and on the way met Lieutenant G . I 

showed him the insect, and he begged me to let him take 
it to the fort. On my consenting, he thrust it forthwith 935 
into his waistcoat pocket, without the parchment in which 
it had been wrapped, and which I had continued to hold 
in my hand during his inspection. Perhaps he dreaded my 
changing my mind, and thought it best to make sure of 
the prize at once — you know how enthusiastic he is on all 940 
subjects connected with Natural History. At the same 
time, without being conscious of it, I must have deposited 
the parchment in my own pocket. 

"You remember that when I went to the table, for the 
purpose of making a sketch of the beetle, I found no paper 945 
where it was usually kept. I looked in the drawer, and 
found none there. I searched my pockets, hoping to find 



62 Southern Literary Readings 

an old letter, and then my hand fell upon the parchment. 
I thus detail the precise mode in which it came into 

950 my possession;. for the circumstances impressed me with 
peculiar force. 

'* No doubt you will think me fanciful— but I had already 
established a kind of connection. I had put together two 
links of a great chain. There was a boat lying on a sea- 

955 coast, and not far from the boat was a parchment — not a 
paper — with a skull depicted on it. You will, of course^ 
ask 'where is the connection?' I reply that the skull, or 
death's-head, is the well-known emblem of the pirate. 
The flag of the death's-head is hoisted in all engagements. 

960 "I have said that the scrap was parchment, and not 
paper. Parchment is durable — almost imperishable. 
Matters of little moment are rarely consigned to parch- 
ment ; since, for the mere ordinary purposes of drawing or 
writing, it is not nearly so well adapted as paper. This 

965 reflection suggested some meaning — some relevancy — in 
the death's-head. I did not fail to observe, also, the 
jorm of the parchment. Although one of its comers had 
been, by some accident, destroyed, it could be seen that 
the original form was oblong. It was just such a slip, 

970 indeed, as might have been chosen for a memorandum — for 
a record of something to be long remembered and carefully 
preserved." 

"But," I interposed, "you say that the skull was not 
upon the parchment when you made the drawing of the 

975 beetle. How then do you trace any connection between 
the boat and the skull — since this latter, according to your 
own admission, must have been designed at some period 
subsequent to your sketching the scarabceusf" 

"Ah, hereupon turns the whole mystery; although the 

980 secret, at this point, I had comparatively little difficulty 
in solving. My steps were sure, and could afford but a 



The Gold Bug 63 

single result. I reasoned, for example, thus: ^When I 
drew the scarabcBus, there was no skull apparent on the 
parchment. When I had completed the drawing I gave 
it to you, and observed you narrowly until you returned it. 935 
You, therefore, did not design the skull, and no one else 
was present to do it. Then it was not done by himian 
agency. And nevertheless it was done. 

''At this stage of my reflections I endeavored to remem- 
ber, and did remember, with entire distinctness, every 990 
incident which occurred about the period in question. The 
weather was chilly (O rare and happy accident!) and a 
fire was blazing on the hearth. I was heated with exer- 
cise and sat near the table. You, however, had drawn a 
chair close to the chimney. Just as I placed the parch- 995 
ment in your hand, and as you were in the act of inspecting 
it. Wolf, the Newfoundland, entered, and leaped upon 
your shoulders. With your left hand you caressed him 
and kept him off, while your right, holding the parchment, 
was permitted to fall listlessly between your knees, and 1000 
in close proximity to the fire. At one moment I thought 
the blaze had caught it, and was about to caution you, but, 
before I could speak, you had withdrawn it, and were 
engaged in its examination. When I considered all these 
particulars, I doubted not for a moment that heat had 1005 
been the agent in bringing to light, on the parchment, 
the skull which I saw designed on it. You are well aware 
that chemical preparations exist, and have existed time 
out of mind, by means of which it is possible to write on 
either paper or vellum, so that the characters shall become 1010 
visible only when subjected to the action of fire. Zaffre, 
digested in aqua regia, and diluted with four times its 
weight of water, is sometimes employed ; a green tint results. 
The regulus of cobalt, dissolved in spirit of nitre, gives a 
red. These colors disappear at longer or shorter intervals 1015 



64 Southern Literary Readings 

after the material written upon cools, but again become 
apparent upon the re-application of heat. 

"I now scrutinized the death's-head with care. Its 
outer edges — the edges of the drawing nearest the edge 

1020 of the vellum — were far more distinct than the others. It 
was clear that the action of the caloric had been imperfect 
or unequal. I immediately kindled a fire, and subjected 
every portion of the parchment to a glowing heat. At 
first, the only effect was the strengthening of the faint 

1025 lines in the skull; but, on persevering in the experiment, 
there became visible, at the corner of the slip, diagonally 
opposite to the spot in which the death's-head was 
delineated, the figure of what I at first supposed to be 
a goat. A closer scrutiny, however, satisfied me that it 

1030 was intended for a kid." 

" Ha ! ha ! " said I, " to be sure I have no right to laugh at 
you — a million and a half of money is too serious a matter 
for mirth — but you are not about to establish a third Hnk 
in your chain: you will not find any especial connection 

1035 between your pirates and a goat; pirates, you know, have 
nothing to do with goats ; they appertain to the farming 
interest." 

"But I have just said that the figure was not that of a 
goat." 

1040 "Well, a kid, then — pretty much the same thing." 

"Pretty much, but not altogether," said Legrand. 
"You may have heard of one Captain Kidd. I at once 
looked upon the figure of the animal as a kind of punning 
or hieroglyphical signature. I say signature, because its 

1045 position on the vellum suggested this idea. The death's- 
head at the corner diagonally opposite had, in the same 
manner, the air of a stamp, or seal. But I was sorely put 
out by the absence of all else — of the body to my imagined 
instrument — of the text for my context." 



The Gold Bug 65 

"I presume you expected to find a letter between the 1050 
stamp and the signature." 

"Something of that kind. The fact is, I felt irresistibly 
impressed with a presentiment of some vast good fortune 
impending. I can scarcely say why. Perhaps, after all, 
it was rather a desire than an actual belief; — but do you 1055 
know that Jupiter's silly words, about the bug being of 
solid gold, had a remarkable effect on my fancy? And 
then the series of accidents and coincidences — these were 
so very extraordinary. Do you observe how mere an 
accident it was that these events should have occurred on loeo 
the sole day of all the year in which it has been, or may be, 
sufficiently cool for fire, and that without the fire, or with- 
out the intervention of the dog at the precise moment in 
which he appeared, I should never have become aware 
of the death's-head, and so never the possessor of theioes 
treasure?" 

''But proceed — I am all impatience." 

''Well; you have heard, of course, the many stories 
current — the thousand vague rumors afloat about money 
buried, somewhere on the Atlantic coast, by Kidd and his 1070 
associates. These rumors must have had some foundation 
in fact. And that the rumors have existed so long and 
so continuously, could have resulted, it appeared to me, 
only from the circumstance of the buried treasure still 
remaining entombed. Had Kidd concealed his plunder 1075 
for a time, and afterwards reclaimed it, the rumors would 
scarcely have reached us in their present unvarying form. 
You will observe that the stories told are all about money- 
seekers, not about money-finders. Had the pirate 
recovered his money, there the affair would have dropped, loso 
It seemed to me that some accident — say the loss of a 
memorandum indicating its locality — had deprived him 
of the means of recovering it, and that this accident had 



66 Southern Literary Readings 

become known to his followers, who otherwise might never 

1085 have heard that treasure had been concealed at all, and 
who, busying themselves in vain, because unguided, 
attempts to regain it, had given first birth, and then 
universal currency, to the reports which are now so 
common. Have you ever heard of any important treasure 

1090 being unearthed along the coast?" 
"Never." 

"But that Kidd's acomiulations were immense is well 
known. I took it for granted, therefore, that the earth 
still held them; and you will scarcely be surprised when I 

1095 tell you that I felt a hope, nearly amounting to certainty, 
that the parchment so strangely found involved a lost 
record of the place of deposit." 
"But how did you proceed?" 
"I held the vellum again to the fire, after increasing the 

1100 heat, but nothing appeared. I now thought it possible 
that the coating of dirt might have something to do with 
the failure; so I carefully rinsed the parchment by pouring 
warm water over it, and, having done this, I placed it in a 
tin pan, with the skull downwards, and put the pan upon a 

1105 furnace of lighted charcoal. In a few minutes, the pan 
having become thoroughly heated, I removed the slip, 
and, to my inexpressible joy, found it spotted, in several 
places, with what appeared to be figures arranged in lines. 
Again I placed it in the pan, and suffered it to remain 

1110 another minute. Upon taking it off, the whole was just 
as you see it now." 

Here Legrand, having reheated the parchment, sub- 
mitted it to my inspection. The following characters were 
rudely traced, in a red tint, between the death's-head and 

1115 the goat : — 

S3ttt305))6*;4826)4t)4);8o6*;48t8l[6o))85;;]8*;:r8t83 
(88)5*t;46(;88*96*?;8)*t(;485);5n2:*t(;4956*2(5*— :4)81[8 



The Gold Bug 6y 

*;4o69285) ;)6t8)4t ;i (l9 148081 ;8 :8ti 148185 ;4)485t5288o6* 
8i(t9;48;(88;4(t?34;48)4t;i6i;:i88;t?; 

"But," said I, returning him the sHp, "I am as much in 1120 
the dark as ever. Were all the jewels of Golconda awaiting 
me upon my solution of this enigma, I am quite sure that 
I should be unable to earn them." 

"And yet," said Legrand, "the solution is by no means 
so difficult as you might be led to imagine from the first 112s 
hasty inspection of the characters. These characters, 
as any one might readily guess, form a cipher — that is 
to say, they convey a meaning; but then, from what is 
known of Kidd, I could not suppose him capable of con- 
structing any of the more abstruse cryptographs. I made 1130 
up my mind, at once, that this was of a simple species — 
such, however, as would appear to the crude intellect of 
the sailor, absolutely insoluble without the key." 

"And you really solved it?" 

"Readily; I have solved others of an abstruseness ten 1135 
thousand times greater. Circumstances, and a certain 
bias of mind, have led me to take interest in such riddles, 
and it may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can 
construct an enigma of the kind which human ingenuity 
may not, by proper application, resolve. In fact, having 1140 
once established connected and legible characters,! scarcely 
gave a thought to the mere difficulty of developing their 
import. 

"In the present case — indeed in all cases of secret 
writing — the first question regards the language of theius 
cipher; for the principles of solution, so far, especially as 
the more simple ciphers are concerned, depend on, and 
are varied by, the genius of the particular idiom. In gen- 
eral, there is no alternative but experiment (directed by 
probabilities) of every tongue known to him who attempts 1150 
the solution, until the true one be attained. But, with 



68 



Southern Literary Readings 



the cipher now before us, all difficulty is removed by the 
signature. The pun upon the word *Kidd' is appreciable 
in no other language than the English. But for this con- 

1155 sideration I should have begun my attempts with the 
Spanish and French, as the tongues in which a secret of 
this kind would most naturally have been written by a 
pirate of the Spanish main. As it was, I assumed the 
cryptograph to be English. 

1160 ''You observe there are no divisions between the words. 
Had there been divisions, the task would have been com- 
paratively easy. In such case I should have commenced 
with a collation and analysis of the shorter words, and, 
had a word of a single letter occurred, as is most likely 

1165 (a or /, for example) , I should have considered the solution 
as assured. But, there being no division, my first step was 
to ascertain the predominant letters, as well as the least 
frequent. Counting all, I constructed a table thus: 



Of the character 8 there are 



4 

X) 

5 
6 

( 

ti 

o 

92 



33 
26 

19 
16 

13 
12 
II 

10 — Not given by Poe, but 

Q found in the crypto- 

^ graph, and inserted 

6 to make the table 

complete, 

4 
3 
2 
I 



The Gold Bug 6g 

"Now, in English, the letter which most frequently 
occurs is e. Afterwards, the succession runs thusmss 
aoidhnrstuycfglmwhkpqxz. E predominates, 
however, so remarkably that an individual sentence of any 
length is rarely seen, in which it is not the prevailing 
character. 

"Here, then, we have, in the very beginning, the ground- 1190 
work for something more than a mere guess. The general 
use which may be made of the table is obvious — but, in 
this particular cipher, we shall only very partially require 
its aid. As our predominant character is 8, we will com- 
mence by assuming it as the e of the natural alphabet. 1195 
To verify the supposition, let us observe if the 8 be seen 
often in couples — for e is doubled with great frequency in 
English — in such words, for example, as 'meet,' 'fleet,' 
'speed,' 'seen,' 'been,' 'agree,' etc. In the present instance 
we see it doubled no less than five times, although the 1200 
cryptograph is brief. 

"Let us assume 8, then, as e. Now, of all words in the 
language, 'the' is most usual ; let us see, therefore, whether 
there are not repetitions of any three characters, in the 
same order of collocation, the last of them being 8. If we 1205 
discover repetitions of such letters, so arranged, they 
will most probably represent the word 'the.' On inspec- 
tion, we find no less than seven such arrangements, the 
characters being 148 . We may, therefore, assume that the 
semicolon represents t, that 4 represents h, and that 8 1210 
represents e — the last being now well confirmed. Thus 
a great step has been taken. 

"But, having established a single word, we are enabled 
to establish a vastly important point; that is to say, 
several commencements and terminations of other words. 1215 
Let us refer, for example, to the last instance but one, in 
which the combination 148 occurs — not far from the end 



"JO Southern Literary Readings 

of the cipher. We know that the semicolon immediately 
ensuing is the commencement of a word, and, of the six 
1220 characters succeeding this 'the,' we are cognizant of no less 
than five. Let us set these characters down, thus, by the 
letters we know them to represent, leaving a space for the 
unknown ^ — 

t eeth. 

1225 ' ' Here we are enabled, at once, to discard the 'tk, ' as form- 
ing no portion of the word commencing with the first t\ 
since, by experiment of the entire alphabet for a letter 
adapted to the vacancy, we perceive that no word can be 
formed of which this th can be a part. We are thus 

1230 narrowed into 

t ee, 

and, going through the alphabet, if necessary, as before, 
we arrive at the word 'tree,' as the sole possible reading. 
We thus gain another letter, r , represented by (, with the 

1235 words 'the tree' in juxtaposition. 

"Looking beyond these words, for a short distance, we 
again see the combinartion 148, and employ it by way of 
termination to what immediately precedes. We have thus 
this arrangement: 

1240 ■ the tree ;4(t?34 the, 

or, substituting the natural letters, where known, it reads 
thus: 

the tree thr J ?3h the. 

"Now, if, in place of the unknown characters, we leave 
1245 blank spaces, or substitute dots, we read thus: 

the tree thr . . . h the, 

when the word 'through' makes itself evident at once. But 
this discovery gives us three new letters, o, u, and g, repre- 
sented by t, ? and 3. 
1250 "Looking now, narrowly, through the cipher for com- 



The Gold Bug yi 

binations of known characters, we find, not very far from 
the beginning, this arrangement : 

83(88, or egree, 
which, plainly, is the conclusion of the word 'degree,' 
and gives us another letter, d, represented by f. 1253 

"Four letters beyond the word 'degree,' we perceive the 
combination, 

;46(;88*. 
* 'Translating the known characters, and representing 
the unknown by dots, as before, we read thus : 1260 

th . rtee . 
an arrangement immediately suggestive of the word 
'thirteen,' and again furnishing us with two new characters, 
i and n, represented by 6 and *. 

"Referring, now, to the beginning of the cryptograph, 1265 
we find the combination 

S3ttt. 
"Translating, as before, we obtain 
. good, 
which assures us that the first letter is A and that the 1270 
first two words are 'A good. ' 

"To avoid confusion, it is now time that we arrange our 
key, as far as discovered, in a tabular form. It will 
stand thus : 

1275 



S re 


presen 


ts a 


t 




d 


8 




e 


3 




g 


4 




h 


6 




i 


* 




n 


\ 







( 




r 


» 




t 



J2 Southern Literary Readings 

1285 "We have, therefore, no less than ten of the most 
important letters represented, and it will be unnecessary 
to proceed with the details of the solution. I have said 
enough to convince you that ciphers of this nature are 
readily soluble, and to give you some insight into the 

mo rationale of their development. But be assured that the 
specimen before us appertains to the very simplest species 
of cryptograph. It now only remains to give you the 
full translation of the characters upon the parchment, 
as unriddled. Here it is : 

1295 " 'A good glass in the bishop's hostel in the deviVs seat 
twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes northeast and by 
north main branch seventh limb east side shoot from the left 
eye of the death's-head a bee-line from the tree through the 
shot fifty feet out.' " 

1300 "But," said I, "the enigma seems still in as bad a con- 
dition as ever. How is it possible to extort a meaning 
from all this jargon about 'devil's seats,' 'death's-heads,' 
and 'bishop's hotels'?" 

"I confess," replie4 Legrand, "that the matter still 

1305 wears a serious aspect, when regarded with a casual 
glance. My first endeavor was to divide the sentence 
into the natural division intended by the cryptographist." 
"You mean, to punctuate it?" 
"Something of that kind." 

1310 "But how was it possible to effect this ? " 

"I reflected that it had been a point with the writer 
to run his words together without division, so as to increase 
the difficulty of solution. Now, a not over-acute man, 
in pursuing such an object, would be nearly certain to 

1315 overdo the matter. When, in the course of his composi- 
tion, he arrived at a break in his subject which would 
naturally require a pause, or a point, he would be exceed- 
ingly apt to run his characters, at this place, more than 



The Gold Bug 7J 

usually close together. If you will observe the MS., in 
the present instance, you will easily detect five such cases 1320 
of unusual crowding. Acting on this hint, I made the 
division thus : 

" 'A good glass in the Bishop's hostel in the DeviVs seat — 
twenty-one degrees and thirteen minutes — north-east and by 
north — main branch seventh limb east side — shoot from thems 
left eye of the death's-head — a bee-line from the tree through 
the shot fifty feet out. ' ' ' 

"Even this division," said I, "leaves me still in the 
dark." 

" It left me also in the dark," replied Legrand, " for a few 1330 
days; during which I made diligent inquiry, in the neigh- 
borhood of Sullivan's Island, for any building which went 
by the name of the 'Bishop's Hotel'; for, of cotirse, I 
dropped the obsolete word 'hostel.' Gaining no informa- 
tion on the subject, I was on the point of extending my 1335 
sphere of search, and proceeding in a more systematic 
manner, when one morning, it entered into my head, quite 
suddenly, that this 'Bishop's Hostel' might have some 
reference to an old family, of the name of Bessop, which, 
time out of mind, had held possession of an ancient manor- 1340 
house, about four miles to the northward of the island. I 
accordingly went over to the plantation, and re-instituted 
my inquiries among the older negroes of the place. At 
length one of the most aged of the women said that she 
had heard of such a place as Bessop' s Castle, and thought 1345 
that she could guide me to it, but that it was not a castle, 
nor a tavern, but a high rock. 

" I offered to pay her well for her trouble, and, after some 
demur, she consented to accompany me to the spot. We 
found it without much difficulty, when, dismissing her, 1350 
I proceeded to examine the place. The 'castle' consisted 
of an irregular assemblage of cHffs and rocks — one of the 



74 Southern Literary Readings 

latter being quite remarkable for its height as well as for 
its insulated and artificial appearance. I clambered to 

1355 its apex, and then felt much at a loss as to what should be 
next done. 

"While I was busied in reflection, my eyes fell on a 
narrow ledge in the eastern face of the rock, perhaps a yard 
below the summit upon which I stood. This ledge projected 

1360 about eighteen inches, and was not more than a foot wide, 
while a niche in the cliff just above it gave it a rude resem- 
blance to one of the hollow-backed chairs used by our 
ancestors. I made no doubt that here was the 'devil's 
seat' alluded to in the MS., and now I seemed to grasp 

1365 the full secret of the riddle. 

"The 'good glass,' I knew, could have reference to 
nothing but a telescope; for the word 'glass' is rarely 
employed in any other sense by seamen. Now here, I at 
once saw, was a telescope to be used, and a definite point 

1370 of view, admitting no variation, from which to use it. Nor 
did I hesitate to believe that the phrases, 'twenty-one 
degrees and thirteen. minutes,' and 'north-east and by 
north,' were intended as directions for the levelling of the 
glass. Greatly excited by these discoveries, I hurried 

1375 home, procured a telescope, and returned to the rock. 

" I let myself down to the ledge, and found that it was 
impossible to retain a seat on it unless in one particular 
position. This fact confirmed my preconceived idea. I 
proceeded to use the glass. Of course,- the 'twenty-one 

1380 degrees and thirteen minutes' could allude to nothing but 
elevation above the visible horizon, since the horizontal 
direction was clearly indicated by the words, 'north-east 
and by north.' This latter direction I at once established 
by means of a pocket-compass ; then, pointing the glass as 

1385 nearly at an angle of twenty-one degrees of elevation as I 
could do it by guess, I moved it cautiously up or down, 



The Gold Bug y^ 

until my attention was arrested by a circular rift or 
opening in the foliage of a large tree that overtopped 
its fellows in the distance. In the centre of this rift I 
perceived a white spot, but could not, at first, distinguish 1390 
what it was. Adjusting the focus of the telescope, I again 
looked, and now made it out to be a human skull. 

"On this discovery I was so sanguine as to consider the 
enigma solved; for the phrase, 'main branch, seventh limb, 
east side,' could refer only to the position of the skiillisos 
on the tree, while 'shoot from the left eye of the death's- 
head' admitted, also, of but one interpretation, in regard 
to a search for buried treastire. I perceived that the design 
was to drop a bullet from the left eye of the skull, and that 
a bee-line, or, in other words, a straight line, drawn fromuoo 
the nearest point of the trunk through 'the shot' (or the 
spot where the bullet fell), and thence extended to a 
distance of fifty feet, would indicate a definite point — and 
beneath this point I thought it at least possible that a 
deposit of value lay concealed." 1405 

"All this," I said, "is exceedingly clear, and, although 
ingenious, still simple and explicit. When you left the 
Bishop's Hotel, what then?" 

"Why, having carefully taken the bearings of the tree, 
I turned homewards. The instant that I left the 'Devil's 1410 
seat,' however, the circular rift vanished; nor could I get 
a glimpse of it afterwards, turn as I would. What seems 
to me the chief ingenuity in this whole business, is the fact 
(for repeated experiment has convinced me it is a fact) 
that the circular opening in question is visible from no 1415 
other attainable point of view than that afforded by the 
narrow ledge on the face of the rock. 

"In this expedition to the 'Bishop's Hotel' I had been 
attended by Jupiter, who had no doubt observed, for some 
weeks past, the abstraction of my demeanor, and took 1420 



y6 Southern Literary Readings 

especial care not to leave me alone. But on the next day, 
getting up very early, I contrived to give him the slip, and 
went into the hills in search of the tree. After much toil 
I found it. When I came home at night my valet proposed 

1425 to give me a flogging. With the rest of the adventure I 
believe you are as well acquainted as myself." 

"I suppose," said I, "you missed the spot in the first 
attempt at digging, through Jupiter's stupidity in letting 
the bug fall through the right instead of through the left 

1430 eye of the skull." 

"Precisely. This mistake made a difference of about 
two inches and a half in the 'shot' — that is to say, in the 
position of the peg nearest the tree; and had the treasure 
been beneath the 'shot,' the error would have been of little 

1435 moment; but the 'shot,' together with the nearest point of 
the tree, were merely two points for the establishment of 
a line of direction; of course the error, however trivial in 
the beginning, increased as we proceeded with the line, and 
by the time we had gone fifty feet, threw us quite off the 

1440 scent. But for my defep-seated convictions that treasure 
was here somewhere actually buried, we might have had 
all our labor in vain." 

"I presume the fancy of the skull — of letting fall a bullet 
through the skull's eye — was suggested to Kidd by the 

1445 piratical flag. No doubt he felt a kind of poetical con- 
sistency in recovering his money through this ominous 
insigniimi." 

"Perhaps so; still, I can not help thinking that common- 
sense had quite as much to do with the matter as poetical 

1450 consistency. To be visible from the Devil's seat, it was 
necessary that the object, if small, should be white; and 
there is nothing like your human skull for retaining and 
even increasing its whiteness under exposure to all vicis- 
situdes of weather." 



The Gold Bug yy 

"But your grandiloquence, and your conduct in swing- uss 
ing the beetl? — how excessively odd! I was sure you 
were mad. And why did you insist on letting fall the 
bug, instead of a bullet, from the skull?" 

"Why, to be frank, I felt somewhat annoyed by your 
evident suspicions touching my sanity, and so resolved to neo 
punish you quietly, in my own way, by a little bit of sober 
mystification. For this reason I swung the beetle, and for 
this reason I let it fall from the tree. An observation of 
yours about its great weight suggested the latter idea." 

"Yes, I perceive; and now there is only one point which iies 
puzzles me. What are we to make of the skeletons found 
in the hole?" 

"That is a question that I am no more able to answer 
than yourself. There seems, however, only one plausible 
way of accounting for them — and yet it is dreadful to 1470 
believe in such atrocity as my suggestion would imply. It 
is clear that Kidd — if Kidd indeed secreted this treasure, 
which I doubt not — it is clear that he must have had 
assistance in the labor. But the worst of this labor con- 
cluded, he may have thought it expedient to remove all 147s 
participants in his secret. Perhaps a couple of blows with 
a mattock were sufficient, while his coadjutors were busy 
in the pit; perhaps it required a dozen — who shall tell?" 



y8 Southern Literary Readings 

THE HAUNTED PALACE 

In the greenest of our valleys 

By good angels tenanted, 
Once a fair and stately palace — 

Radiant palace — reared its head. 
In the monarch Thought's dominion, 

It stood there ; 
Never seraph spread a pinion 

Over fabric half so fair ! 

Banners yellow, glorious, golden. 

On its roof did float and flow 
(This — all this — was in the olden 

Time long ago), 
And every gentle air that dallied, 

In that sweet day, 
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, 

A winged odor went away. 

Wanderers in that happy valley 

Through two luminous windows saw 
Spirits moving musically. 

To a toe's well-tuned law. 
Round about a throne where, sitting, 

Porphyrogene, 
In state his glory well befitting, 

The ruler of the realm was seen. 

And all with pearl and ruby glowing 

Was the fair palace door. 
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, 

And sparkling evermore. 



The Raven yg 

A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty 

Was but to sing, 
In voices of surpassing beauty, 

The yA\j and wisdom of their king. 

But evil things, in robes of sorrow. 

Assailed the monarch's high estate ; 
(Ah, let us mourn, for never morrow 

Shall dawn upon him desolate ! ) 
And round about his home the glory 

That blushed and bloomed. 
Is but a dim-remembered story 

Of the old time entombed. 

And travellers now within that valley 

Through the red-litten windows see 
Vast forms that move fantastically 

To a discordant melody; 
While, like a ghastly rapid river, 

Through the pale door 
A hideous throng rush out forever, 

And laugh — but smile no more. 



THE RAVEN 

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak 

and weary. 
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten 

lore, — 
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came 

a tapping, 
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber 

door. 



8o Southern Literary Readings 

3*"Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my cham- 
ber door: 

Only this and nothing more." 

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, 
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon 

the floor. 
Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to 

borrow 
10 From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost 

Lenore, 
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 

Lenore: 

Nameless here for evermore. 

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple 

curtain 
Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt 

before; , 

15 So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood 

repeating 
*"Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber 

door. 
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber 

door :, 

This it is and nothing more." 

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no 

longer, 
20 "Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I 

implore ; 
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came 

rapping. 



The Raven 8i 

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber 

door, 
That I scarce was sure I heard you" — here I opened wide 

the door: — 

Darkness there and nothing more. 

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there 25 

wondering, fearing, 
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream 

before; 
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no 

token, 
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, 

"Lenore?" 
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, 

"Lenore": 

Merely this and nothing more, 30 

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me 

burning, 
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than 

before. 
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window 

lattice; 
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery 

explore; 
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore : 35 
'Tis the wind and nothing more!" 

Open here I flimg the shutter, when, with many a flirt and 

flutter. 
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of 

yore. 



82 Southern Literary Readings 

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped 
or stayed he; 
40 But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber 
door. 
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber 
door: 

Perched, and sat, and nothing more. 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it 

wore, — 

46 "Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, 

"art sure no craven. 

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the 

Nightly shore : 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian 
shore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 
• 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so 

plainly, 

50 Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 

Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber 

door, 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber 
door, 

With such name as "Nevermore." 

55 But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke 
only 
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did 
outpour. 



The Raven 83 

Nothing further then he uttered, not a feather then he 

fluttered, 
Till I scarcely more than muttered, — "Other friends 

have flown before; 
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown 

before." 

Then the bird said, ** Nevermore." eo 

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, 
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and 

store. 
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful 

Disaster 
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden 

bore: 
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore es 

Of ' Never — nevermore. ' ' ' 

But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling, 
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and 

bust and door; 
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking 
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of 70 

yore. 
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous 

bird of yore 

Meant in croaking "Nevermore." 

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing 
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's 

core; 
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease 75 

reclining 



84 Southern Literary Readings 

On the cushion's velvet Hning that the lamp-light gloated 
o 'er, 

But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloat- 
ing o'er 

She shall press, ah, nevermore ! 



Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfurhed from an 

unseen censer 
80 Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted 

floor. 
"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee— by these 

angels he hath sent thee 
Respite — respite and nepenthe from thy memories of 

Lenore ! 
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost 

Lenore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

• 
85 "Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! prophet still, if bird 
or devil ! 
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee 

here ashore. 
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted — 
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore: 
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, 
I implore!" 
90 Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird 

or devil ! 
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we 

both adore. 



The Raven 85 

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant 

Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name 

Lenore : 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name 95 

Lenore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 



"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I 

shrieked, upstarting: 
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian 

shore ! 
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul 

hath spoken ! 
Leave my loneliness unbroken ! quit the bust above my 100 

door! 
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form 

from off my door!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is 

sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber 

door; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is 105 

dreaming, 
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow 

on the floor: 
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on 

the floor 

Shall be lifted — nevermore! 



86 Southern Literary Readings 

THE PHILOSOPHY OF COMPOSITION 

Charles Dickens, in a note now lying before me, alluding 
to an examination I once made of the mechanism of 
"Barnaby Rudge," says — "By the way, are you aware 
that Godwin wrote his 'Caleb Williams' backwards? 

5 He first involved his hero in a web of difficulties, forming 
the second volume, and then, for the first, cast about 
him for some mode of accounting for what had been 
done." 

I cannot think this the precise mode of procedure 

10 on the part of Godwin — and indeed what he himself 
acknowledges is not altogether in accordance with Mr. 
Dickens's idea; but the author of "Caleb Williams" 
was too good an artist not to perceive the advantage deriv- 
able from at least a somewhat similar process. Nothing 

15 is more clear than that every plot, worth the name, must 
be elaborated to its denouement before anything be 
attempted with the pen. It is only with the denouement 
constantly in view thafwe can give a plot its indispensable 
air of consequence, or causation, by making the incidents, 

20 and especially the tone of all points, tend to the develop- 
ment of the intention. 

There is a radical error, I think, in the usual mode of 
constructing a story. Either history affords a thesis, or 
one is suggested by an incident of the day, or, at best, the 

25 author sets himself to work in the combination of striking 
events to form merely the basis of his narrative, designing, 
generally, to fill in with description, dialogue, or authorial 
comment whatever crevices of fact or action may from 
page to page render themselves apparent. 

30 I prefer commencing with the consideration of an 
efect. Keeping originality always in view — for he is false 
to himself who ventures to dispense with so obvious 



The Philosophy of Composition 8y 

and so easily attainable a source of interest — I say to 
myself, in the first place, — "Of the innumerable effects, 
or impressions, of which the heart, the intellect, or (more 35 
generally) the soul is susceptible, what one shall I, on the 
present occasion, select?" Having chosen a novel, first, 
and secondly a vivid effect, I consider whether it can be 
best wrought by incident or tone — whether by ordinary 
incidents and peculiar tone, or the converse, or by pecu- 40 
liarity both of incident and tone — afterward looking about 
me (or rather within) for such combinations of event, or 
tone, as shall best aid me in the construction of the effect. 

I have often thought how interesting a magazine paper 
might be written by an author who would — that is to say, 45 
who could — detail, step by step, the processes by which 
any one of his compositions attained its ultimate point of 
completion. Why such a paper has never been given to 
the world, I am much at a loss to say; but, perhaps, the 
authorial vanity has had more to do with the omission 50 
than any one other cause. Most writers — poets in es- 
pecial — prefer having it understood that they compose by 
a species of fine frenzy — an ecstatic intuition; and would 
positively shudder at letting the public take a peep 
behind the scenes at the elaborate and vacillating crudi- 55 
ties of thought, at the true purposes seized only at the last 
moment, at the innumerable glimpses of idea that arrived 
not at the maturity of full view, at the fully matured 
fancies discarded in despair as unmanageable, at the 
cautious selections and rejections, at the painful erasures eo 
and interpolations — in a word, at the wheels and pinions, 
the tackle for scene-shifting, the step-ladders and demon- 
traps, the cock's feathers, the red paint and the black 
patches, which in ninety-nine cases out of the hundred 
constitute the properties of the literary histrio. es 

I am aware, on the other hand, that the case is by no 



88 Southern Literary Readings 

means common in which an author is at all in condition 
to retrace the steps by which his conclusions have been 
attained. In general, suggestions, having arisen pell- 

70 mell, are pursued and forgotten in a similar manner. 

For my own part, I have neither sympathy with the 

repugnance alluded to, nor at any time the least difficulty 

in recalling to mind the progressive steps of any of my 

compositions; and, since the interest of an analysis, or 

75 reconstruction, such as I have considered a desideratum^ 
is quite independent of any real or fancied interest in the 
thing analyzed, it will not be regarded as a breach of 
decorum on my part to show the modus operandi by which 
some one of my own works was put together. I select 

80 "The Raven" as most generally known. It is my design 
to render it manifest that no one point in its composition 
is referable either to accident or intuition; that the work 
proceeded, step by step, to its completion with the pre- 
cision and rigid consequence of a mathematical problem. 

85 Let us dismiss, as irrelevant to the poem per se, the 
circumstance — or say "the necessity — which in the first 
place gave rise to the intention of composing a poem that 
should suit at once the popular and the critical taste. 
We commence, then, with this intention. 

90 The initial consideration was that of extent. If any 
literary work is too long to be read at one sitting, we 
must be content to dispense with the immensely impor- 
tant effect derivable from unity of impression; for, if two 
sittings be required, the affairs of the world interfere, 

95 and everything like totality is at once destroyed. But 
since, ceteris paribus, no poet can afford to dispense with 
anything that may advance his design, it but remains to 
be seen whether there is, in extent, any advantage to 
counterbalance the loss of unity which attends it. Here 
100 1 say no, at once. What we term a long poem is, in fact, 



The Philosophy of Composition 8g 

merely a succession of brief ones — that is to say, of brief 
poetical effects. It is needless to demonstrate that a poem 
is such, only inasmuch as it intensely excites, by elevating, 
the soul ; and all intense excitements are, through a psychal 
necessity, brief. For this reason, at least one half of the 105 
"Paradise Lost" is essentially prose — a succession of 
poetical excitements interspersed, inevitably, with corre- 
sponding depressions — the whole being deprived, through 
the extremeness of its length, of the vastly important 
artistic element, totality, or unity, of effect. no 

It appears evident, then, that there is a distinct limit, 
as regards length, to all works of literary art — the limit 
of a single sitting; and that, although in certain classes of 
prose composition, such as "Robinson Crusoe" (demand- 
ing no unity) , this limit may be advantageously over- 115 
passed, it can never properly be overpassed in a poem. 
Within this limit, the extent of a poem may be made to 
bear mathematical relation to its merit — in other words, 
to the excitement or elevation — again, in other words, to 
the degree of the true poetical effect which it is capable 120 
of inducing ; for it is clear that the brevity must be in direct 
ratio of the intensity of the intended effect : — this, with one 
proviso — that a certain degree of duration is absolutely 
requisite for the production of any effect at all. 

Holding in view these considerations, as well as that 125 
degree of excitement which I deemed not above the popu- 
lar while not below the critical taste, I reached at once 
what I conceived the proper length for my intended poem — 
a length of about one hundred lines. It is, in fact, a 
hundred and eight. 130 

My next thought concerned the choice of an impres- 
sion, or effect, to be conveyed: and here I may as well 
observe that, throughout the construction, I kept steadily 
in view the design of rendering the work universally 



go Southern Literary Readings 

135 appreciable. I should be carried too far out of my immedi- 
ate topic were I to demonstrate a point upon which I have 
repeatedly insisted, and which with the poetical stands 
not in the slightest need of demonstration — the point, I 
mean, that Beauty is the sole legitimate province of the 

140 poem. A few words, however, in elucidation of my real 
meaning, which some of my friends have evinced a disposi- 
tion to misrepresent. That pleasure which is at once the 
most intense, the most elevating, and the most pure, is, 
I believe, found in the contemplation of the beautiful. 

145 When, indeed, men speak of Beauty, they mean, precisely, 
not a quahty, as is supposed, but an effect; they refer, in 
short, just to that intense and pure elevation of soul — not 
of intellect, or of heart — upon which I have commented, 
and which is experienced in consequence of contemplating 

150 "the beautiful." Now I designate Beauty as the province 
of the poem, merely because it is an obvious rule of Art 
that effects should be made to spring from direct causes — 
that objects should be attained through means best 
adapted for their attainment — no one as yet having been 

155 weak enough to deny that the peculiar elevation alluded to 
is most readily attained in the poem. Now the object, 
Truth, or the satisfaction of the intellect, and the object. 
Passion, or the excitement of the heart, are, although 
attainable to a certain extent in poetry, far more readily 

160 attainable in prose. Truth, in fact, demands a precision, 
and Passion a homeliness (the truly passionate will com- 
prehend me), which are absolutely antagonistic to that 
Beauty which, I maintain, is the excitement, or pleasur- 
able elevation, of the soul. It by no means follows from 

165 anything here said that passion, or even truth, may not 
be introduced, and even profitably introduced, into a 
poem — for they may serve in elucidation, or aid the 
general effect, as do discords in music, by contrast; 



The Philosophy of Composition gi 

but the true artist will always contrive, first, to tone them 
into proper subservience to the predominant aim, and, m 
secondly, to enveil them, as far as possible, in that Beauty 
which is the atmosphere and the essence of the poem. 

Regarding, then, Beauty as my province, my next ques- 
tion referred to the tone of its highest manifestation ; and 
all experience has shown that this tone is one of sadness, m 
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, 
invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears. Melancholy 
is thus the most legitimate of all the poetical tones. 

The length, the province, and the tone, being thus 
determined, I betook myself to ordinary induction, iso 
with the view of obtaining some artistic piquancy which 
might serve me as a key-note in the construction of the 
poem — some pivot upon which the whole structure might 
turn. In carefully thinking over all the usual artistic 
effects — or more properly points, in the theatrical sense — m 
I did not fail to perceive immediately that no one had been 
so universally employed as that of the refrain. The uni- 
versality of its employment sufficed to assure me of its 
intrinsic value, and spared me the necessity of submitting 
it to analysis. I considered it, however, with regard to 190 
its susceptibility of improvement, and soon saw it to be 
in a primitive condition. As commonly used, the refrain, 
or burden, not only is limited to lyric verse, but depends 
for its impression upon the force of monotone — both in 
sound and thought. The pleasure is deduced solely from 195 
the sense of identity — of repetition. I resolved to diver- 
sify, and so heighten, the effect, by adhering, in general, 
to the monotone of sound, while I continually varied that 
of thought: that is to say, I determined to produce 
continuously novel effects, by the variation of the appli- 200 
cation of the refrain — the refrain itself remaining, for the 
most part, unvaried. 



Q2 Southern Literary Readings 

These points being settled, I next bethought me of the 
nature of my refrain. Since its appHcation was to be 

205 repeatedly varied, it was clear that the refrain itself must 
be brief, for there would have been an insurmountable 
difficulty in frequent variations of application in any 
sentence of length. In proportion to the brevity of the 
sentence, would, of course, be the facihty of the variation. 

210 This led me at once to a single word as the best refrain. 

The question now arose as to the character of the word. 

Having made-up my mind to a refrain, the division of the 

poem into stanzas, was, of course, a corollary : the refrain 

forming the close to each stanza. That such a close, to 

215 have force, must be sonorous and susceptible of pro- 
tracted emphasis, admitted no doubt; and these consid- 
erations inevitably led me to the long o as the most 
sonorous vowel, in connection with r as the most producible 
consonant. 

220 The sound of the refrain being thus determined, it 
became necessary to select a word embodying this sound 
and at the same time m the fullest possible keeping with 
that melancholy which I had predetermined as the tone 
of the poem. In such a search it would have been abso- 

225lutely impossible to overlook the word "Nevermore." 
In fact, it was the very first which presented itself. 

The next desideratum was a pretext for the continuous 
use of the one word ''nevermore." In observing the 
difficulty which I at once found in inventing a sufficiently 

230 plausible reason for its continuous repetition, I did not fail 
to perceive that this difficulty arose solely from the pre- 
assumption that the word was to be so continuously 
or monotonously spoken by a human being; I did not fail 
to perceive, in short, that the difficulty lay in the recon- 

235 ciliation of this monotony with the exercise of reason on 
the part of the creature repeating the word. Here, then, 



The Philosophy of Composition pj 

immediately arose the idea of a won-reasoning creature 
capable of speech ; and, very naturally, a parrot, in the first 
instance, suggested itself, but was superseded forthwith by 
a Raven as equally capable of speech, and infinitely more 240 
in keeping with the intended tone. 

I had now gone so far as the conception of a Raven — 
the bird of ill-omen — monotonously repeating the word, 
"Nevermore," at the conclusion of each stanza, in a poem 
of melancholy tone, and in length about one hundred 245 
lines. Now, never losing sight of the object supremeness, 
or perfection, at all points, I asked myself — "Of all 
melancholy topics, what, according to the universal under- 
standing of mankind, is the most melancholy?" Death — 
was the obvious reply. * * And when, ' ' I said, ' ' is this most 250 
melancholy of topics most poetical?" From what I have 
already explained at some length, the answer here also 
is obvious — "When it most closely allies itself to Beauty; 
the death, then, of a beautiful woman is, unquestionably, 
the most poetical topic in the, world — and equally is it 255 
beyond doubt that the lips best suited for such a topic are 
those of a bereaved lover." 

I had now to combine the two ideas, of a lover lamenting 
his deceased mistress and a Raven continuously repeating 
the word "Nevermore." I had to combine these, bear- 260 
ing in mind my design of varying at every turn the appli- 
cation of the word repeated ; but the only intelligible mode 
of such combination is that of imagining the Raven employ- 
ing the word in answer to the queries of the lover. And 
here it was that I saw at once the opportunity afforded for 265 
the effect on which I had been depending — that is to say, 
the effect of the variation of application. I saw that I could 
make the first query propounded by the lover — the first 
query to which the Raven should reply "Nevermore" — 
that I could make this first query a commonplace one, the 270 



04 Southern Literary Readings 

second less so, the third still less, and so on, until at 
length the lover, startled from his original nonchalance by 
the melancholy character of the word itself, by its frequent 
repetition and by a consideration of the ominous repu- 

275 tation of the fowl that uttered it, is at length excited to 
superstition, and wildly propounds queries of a far different 
character — queries whose solution he has passionately 
at heart — propounds them half in superstition and half 
in that species of despair which delights in self-torture — 

280 propounds them, not altogether because he believes in 
the prophetic or demoniac character of the bird (which, 
reason assures him, is merely repeating a lesson learned by 
rote), but because he experiences a frenzied pleasure in so 
modelling his questions as to receive from the expected 

285 "Nevermore" the most delicious because the most intol- 
erable of sorrow. Perceiving the opportunity thus af- 
forded me — or, more strictly, thus forced upon me in the 
progress of the construction — I first established in mind 
the climax, or concluding query — that query to which 

290 " Nevermore " should be in the last place an answer — 
that query in reply to which this word "Nevermore" 
should involve the utmost conceivable amount of sorrow 
and despair. 

Here then the poem may be said to have its beginning — 

295 at the end, where all works of art should begin; for it 
was here, at this point of my preconsiderations, that I 
first put pen to paper in the composition of the stanza: — 

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil — prophet still, if bird or devil! 
By that Heaven that bends above us, by that God we both adore, 
300 Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, 
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore: 
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore." 

I composed this stanza, at this point, first, that by 



The Philosophy of Composition P5 

establishing the climax I might the better vary and gradu- 305 
ate, as regards seriousness and importance, the preceding 
queries of the lover, and, secondly, that I might defi- 
nitely settle the rhythm, the metre, and the length and 
general arrangement of the stanza, as well as graduate the 
stanzas which were to precede so that none of them might 310 
surpass this in rhythmical effect. Had I been able, in 
the subsequent composition, to construct more vigorous 
stanzas, I should, without scruple, have purposely enfeebled 
them, so as not to interfere with the climacteric effect. 

And here I may as well say a few words of the versifi- ais 
cation. My first object (as usual) was originality. The 
extent to which this has been neglected, in versification, 
is one of the most unaccountable things in the world. 
Admitting that there is little possibility of variety in mere 
rhythm, it is still clear that the possible varieties of metre 320 
and stanza are absolutely infinite — and yet, for centuries, 
no man, in verse, has ever done, or ever seemed to think 
of doing, an original thing. The fact is, that originality 
(unless in minds of very unusual force) is by no means a 
matter, as some suppose, of impulse or intuition. In 325 
general, to be found, it must be elaborately sought, and, 
although a positive merit of the highest class, demands in 
its attainment less of invention than negation. 

Of course, I pretend to no originality in either the 
rhythm or metre of the ' ' Raven. ' ' The former is trochaic, 330 
the latter is octameter acatalectic, alternating with 
heptameter catalectic repeated in the refrain of the fifth 
verse, and terminating with tetrameter catalectic. Less 
pedantically — the feet employed throughout (trochees) 
consist of a long syllable followed by a short ; the first line 335 
of the stanza consists of eight of these feet, the second of 
seven and a half (in effect two-thirds), the third of eight, 
the fourth of seven and a half, the fifth the same, the sixth 



g6 Southern Literary Readings 

three and a half. Now, each of these lines, taken individ- 

340 ually, has been employed before, and what originality the 
** Raven" has is in their combination into stanza; nothing 
even remotely approaching this combination has ever 
been attempted. The effect of this originality of com- 
bination is aided by other unusual and some altogether 

345 novel effects, arising from an extension of the application 
of the principles of rhyme and alliteration. 

The next point to be considered was the mode of bringing 
together the lover and the Raven ; and the first branch of 
this consideration was the locale. For this the most natural 

350 suggestion might seem to be a forest, or the fields; but it 
has always appeared to me that a close circumscription of 
space is absolutely necessary to the effect of insulated 
incident : — it has the force of a frame to a picture. It has 
an indisputable moral power in keeping concentrated the 

355 attention, and, of course, must not be confounded with 
mere unity of place. 

I determined, then, to place the lover in his chamber — 
in a chamber rendered Sacred to him by memories of her 
who had frequented it. The room is represented as 

360 richly furnished — this in mere pursuance of the ideas I 
have already explained on the subject of Beauty, as the 
sole true poetical thesis. 

The locale being thus determined, I had now to introduce 
the bird, and the thought of introducing him through the 

365 window was inevitable. The idea of making the lover sup- 
pose in the first instance that the flapping of the wings 
of the bird against the shutter is a "tapping" at the door, 
originated in a wish to increase, by prolonging, the reader's 
curiosity, and in a desire to admit the incidental effect 

370 arising from the lover's throwing open the door, finding 
all dark, and thence adopting the half -fancy that it was the 
spirit of his mistress that knocked. 



The Philosophy of Composition gy 

I made the night tempestuous, first, to account for the 
Raven's seeking admission, and secondly, for the effect 
of contrast with the (physical) serenity within the 375 
chamber. 

I made the bird alight on the bust of Pallas, also for the 
effect of contrast between the marble and the plumage — 
it being understood that the bust was absolutely suggested 
by the bird ; the bust of Pallas being' chosen, first, as 38o 
most in keeping with the scholarship of the lover, and, 
secondly, for the sonorousness of the word, Pallas, itself. 

About the middle of the poem, also, I have availed 
myself of the force of contrast with a view of deepening 
the ultimate impression. For example, an air of the fan- sss 
tastic, approaching as nearly to the ludicrous as was 
admissible, is given to the Raven's entrance. He comes 
in "with many a flirt and flutter." 

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he ; 
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door. 390 

In the two stanzas which follow, the design is more 
obviously carried out: — 

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling 
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, — 
"Though thy crest he shorn and shaven, thou," said I, "art sure no sds 

craven. 
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore • 
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!" 

Quoth the raven "Nevermore." 

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, 
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; 400 

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being 
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door, 
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door. 

With such name as "Nevermore," 

The effect of the denouement being thus provided for, 405 
7 



g8 Southern Literary Readings 

I immediately drop the fantastic for a tone of the most 
profound seriousness : — this tone commencing in the stanza 
directly following the one last quoted, with the line, 

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, etc. 

410 From this epoch the lover no longer j est s — no longer sees 
anything even of the fantastic in the Raven's demeanor. 
He speaks of him as a "grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, 
and ominous bird of yore," and feels the "fiery eyes" 
burning into his "bosom's core." This revolution of 

415 thought, or fancy, on the lover's part, is intended to in- 
duce a similar one on the part of the reader — to bring the 
mind into a proper frame for the denouement, which is 
now brought about as rapidly and as directly as possible. 
With the denouement proper — with the Raven's reply, 

420 "Nevermore," to the lover's final demand if he shall meet 
his mistress in another world — the poem, in its obvious 
phase, that of a simple narrative, may be said to have its 
completion. So far, everything is within the limits of the 
accountable, of the re'kl. A raven, having learned by 

425 rote the single word "Nevermore," and having escaped 
from the custody of its owner, is driven at midnight 
through the violence of a storm to seek admission at a 
window from which a light still gleams- — the chamber- 
window of a student, occupied half in poring over a 

430 volume, half in dreaming of a beloved mistress deceased. 
The casement being thrown open at the fluttering of the 
bird's wings, the bird itself perches on the most con- 
venient seat out of the immediate reach of the student, 
who, amused by the incident and the oddity of the visitor's 

435 demeanor, demands of it, in jest and without looking for 
a reply, its name. The raven addressed, answers with its 
customary word, ' ' Nevermore ' ' — a word which finds imme- 
diate echo in the melancholy heart of the student, who. 



The Philosophy of Composition ' gg 

giving utterance aloud to certain thoughts suggested by 
the occasion, is again startled by the fowl's repetition of 440 
** Nevermore." The student now guesses the state of the 
case, but is impelled, as I have before explained, by the 
human thirst for self-torture, and in part by superstition, 
to propound such queries to the bird as will bring him, 
the lover, the most of the luxury of sorrow, through the 445 
anticipated answer ''Nevermore." With the indulgence, 
to the extreme, of this self-torture, the narration, in what 
I have termed its first or obvious phase, has a natural 
termination, and so far there has been no overstepping of 
the limits of the real. 450 

But in subjects so handled, however skilfully, or with 
however vivid an array of incident, there is always a 
certain hardness or nakedness, which repels the artisti- 
cal eye. Two things are invariably required : first, some 
amount of complexity, or more properly, adaptation ; and 455 
secondly, some amount of suggestiveness, some under- 
current, however indefinite, of meaning. It is this latter, 
in especial, which imparts to a work of art so much of that 
richness (to borrow from colloquy a forcible term) which 
we are too fond of confounding with the ideal. It is the 46o 
excess of the suggested meaning — it is the rendering this " 
the upper instead of the under current of the theme — 
which turns into prose (and that of the very flattest kind) 
the so-called poetry of the so-called transcendentalists. 

Holding these opinions, I added the two concluding 465 
stanzas of the poem — their suggestiveness being thus 
made to pervade all the narrative which has preceded them. 
The under-current of meaning is rendered first apparent in 
the lines — 

"Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my 470 
door!" 

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore!" 



100 Southern Literary Readings 

It will be observed that the words, "from out my 
heart," involve the first metaphorical expression in the 
poem. They, with the answer, "Nevermore," dispose 

475 the mind to seek a moral in all that has been previously 
narrated. The reader begins now to regard the Raven 
as emblematical — but it is not until the very last line of 
the very last stanza that the intention of making him em- 
blematical of Mournful and Never-ending Remembrance is 

iso permitted distinctly to be seen: — 

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting 
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; 
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming. 
And the lamp-light o 'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor ; 
»85 And my soul from out that shadoiv that lies floating on the floor 

Shall be lifted — nevermore. 



THE BELLS 

I 
Hear the sledges with the bells. 
Silver bells! 
What a world of merriment their melody foretells ! 
How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle. 

In the icy air of night ! 
While the stars, that oversprinkle 
All the heavens, seem to twinkle 
With a crystalline delight ; 
Keeping time, time, time. 
In a sort of Runic rhyme. 
To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells 
From the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells— 
From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. 



The Bells loi 

II 
Hear the mellow wedding bells 
Golden bells! 
What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! 
Through the balmy air of night 
How they ring out their delight ! 
From the molten-golden notes, 

And all in tune, 
What a liquid ditty floats 
To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats 
On the moon ! 
Oh, from out the sounding cells, 
What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! 
How it swells ! 
How it dwells 
On the Future ! how it tells 
Of the rapture that impels 
To the swinging and the ringing 

Of the bells, bells, bells. 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, 
Bells, bells, bells — 
To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells ! i 

III 
Hear the loud alarum bells. 
Brazen bells ! 
What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! 
In the startled ear of night 

How they scream out their affright ! < 

Too much horrified to speak, 
They can only shriek, shriek. 
Out of tune. 
In a clamorous appealing to the mercy of the fire. 
In a mad expostulation with the deaf and frantic fire, 4 



102 Southern Literary Readings 

Leaping higher, higher, higher, 
With a desperate desire. 
And a resolute endeavor 
Now — now to sit or never, 
60 By the side of the pale-faced moon. 

Oh, the bells, bells, bells! 
What a tale their terror tells 
Of Despair ! 
How they clang, and clash, and roar! 
55 What a horror they outpour 

On the bosom of the palpitating air ! 
Yet the ear it fully knows. 
By the twanging, 
And the clanging, 
60 How the danger ebbs and flows ; 

Yet the ear distinctly tells, 
In the jangling 
And the wrangling. 
How the danger sinks and swells, — 
65 By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells, 
Of the bells. 
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Bells, bells, bells — 
In the clamor and the clanging of the bells ! 

IV 

70 Hear the tolling of the bells. 

Iron bells ! 
What a world of solemn thought their monody compels ! 
In the silence of the night. 
How we shiver with affright 
75 At the melancholy menace of their tone ! 

For every sound that floats 
From the rust within their throats 
Is a groan. 



The Bells 103 

And the people — ah, the people, 

They that dwell up in the steeple, so 

All alone, 
And who tolling, tolling, tolling. 

In that muffled monotone. 
Feel a glory in so rolling 

On the human heart a stone — 85 

They are neither man nor woman, 
They are neither brute nor human 
They are Ghouls : 
And their king it is who tolls ; 
And he rolls, rolls, rolls, 90 

Rolls 
A psean from the bells ; 
And his merry bosom swells 
With the paean of the bells. 
And he dances, and he yells; 95 

Keeping time, time, time, 
In a sort of Runic rhyme. 
To the pasan of the bells, 
Of the bells: 
Keeping time, time, time, 100 

In a sort of Runic rhyme. 

To the throbbing of the bells, 
Of the bells, bells, bells — 

To the sobbing of the bells; 
Keeping time, time, time, loe 

As he knells, knells, knells, 
In a happy Runic rhyme. 

To the rolling of the bells. 
Of the bells, bells, bells, 

To the tolling of the bells, no 

Of the bells, bells, bells, bells. 
Bells, bells, bells — 
To the moaning and the groaning of the bells. 



104 Southern Literary Readings 

ANNABEL LEE 

It was many and many a year ago, 

In a kingdom by the sea, 
That a maiden there Hved whom you may know 

By the name of Annabel Lee ; 
And this maiden she hved with no other thought 

Than to love and be loved by me. 

I. was a child and she was a child, 

In this kingdom by the sea, 
But we loved with a love that was more than love, 

I and my Annabel Lee ; 
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 

Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 

In this kingdom by the sea, 
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 

My beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
So that her high-boA kinsmen came 

And bore her away from me, 
To shut her up in a sepulchre 

In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven. 

Went envying her and me; — 
Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know, 

In this kingdom by the sea) 
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love 

Of those who were older than we. 

Of many far wiser than we ; 
And neither the angels in heaven above, 



The Masque of the Red Death 105 

Nor the demons down under the sea, 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee : 

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 35 

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, 

In her sepulchre there by the sea, 40 

In her tomb by the sounding sea. 



THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH 

The ''Red Death" had long devastated the country. 
No pestilence had ever been so fatal, or so hideous. Blood 
was its avatar and its seal — the redness and the horror of 
blood. There were sharp pains, and sudden dizziness, 
and then profuse bleeding at the pores, with dissolution. 5 
The scarlet stains upon the body, and especially upon 
the face, of the victim were the pest ban which shut him 
out from the aid and from the sympathy of his fellow-men. 
And the whole seizure, progress, and termination of the 
disease were the incidents of half an hour. 10 

But the Prince Prospero was happy and dauntless and 
sagacious. When his dominions were half depopulated, 
he summoned to his presence a thousand hale and light- 
hearted friends from among the knights and dames of 
his court, and with these retired to the deep seclusion 15 
of one of his castellated abbeys. This was an extensive 
and magnificent structure, the creation of the Prince's 
own eccentric yet august taste. A strong and lofty wall 



io6 Southern Literary Readings 

girdled it in. This wall had gates of iron. The courtiers, 

20 having entered, brought furnaces and massy hammers, 
and welded the bolts. They resolved to leave means 
neither of ingress nor egress to the sudden impulses of 
despair or of frenzy from within. The abbey was amply 
provisioned. With such precautions the courtiers might 

25 bid defiance to contagion. The external world could take 
care of itself. In the mean time it was folly to grieve, 
or to think. The Prince had provided all the appliances 
of pleasure. The're were buffoons, there were impro- 
visatori, there were ballet-dancers, there were musicians, 

30 there was Beauty, there was wine. All these and security 
were within. Without was the "Red Death. " 

It was toward the close of the fifth or sixth month 
of his seclusion, and while the pestilence raged most 
furiously abroad, that the Prince Prospero entertained 

35 his thousand friends at a masked ball of the most unusual 
magnificence. 

It was a voluptuous scene, that masquerade. But 
first let me tell of the rboms in which it was held. There 
were seven — an imperial suite. In many palaces, how- 

40 ever, such suites form a long and straight vista, while 
the folding doors slide back nearly to the walls on either 
hand, so that the view of the whole extent is scarcely im- 
peded. Here the case was very different, as might have 
been expected from the Prince's love of the bizarre. The 

45 apartments were so irregularly disposed that the vision 
embraced but little more than one at a time. There 
was a sharp turn at every twenty or thirty yards, and at 
each turn a novel effect. To the right and left, in the 
middle of each wall, a tall and narrow Gothic window 

50 looked out upon a closed corridor which pursued the 
windings of the suite. These windows were of stained 
glass, whose color varied in accordance with the prevailing 



The Masque of the Red Death loy 

hue of the decorations of the chamber into which it 
opened. That at the eastern extremity was hung, for 
example, in blue — and vividly blue were its windows. 55 
The second chamber was purple in its ornaments and 
tapestries, and here the panes were purple. The third 
was green throughout, and so were the casements. The 
fourth was furnished and lighted with orange, the fifth 
with white, the sixth with violet. The seventh apart- eo 
ment was closely shrouded in black velvet tapestries that 
hung all over the ceiling and down the walls, falling in 
heavy folds upon a carpet of the same material and hue. 
But, in this chamber only, the color of the windows failed 
to correspond with the decorations. The panes here were 65 
scarlet — a deep blood-color. Now in no one of the seven 
apartments was there any lamp or candelabrum, amid 
the profusion of golden ornaments that lay scattered to 
and fro or depended from the roof. There was no light 
of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the 70 
suite of chambers. But in the corridors that followed the 
suite there stood, opposite to each window, a heavy 
tripod, bearing a brazier of fire, that projected its rays 
through the tinted glass and so glaringly illumined the 
room. And thus were produced a multitude of gaudy and 75 
fantastic appearances. But in the western or black 
chamber the effect of the firelight that streamed upon 
the dark hangings through the blood-tinted panes was 
ghastly in the extreme, and produced so wild a look upon 
the countenances of those who entered that there were so 
few of the company bold enough to set foot within its 
precincts at all. 

It was in this apartment, also, that there stood against 
the western wall a gigantic clock of ebony. Its pendulum 
swung to and fro with a dull, heavy, monotonous clang; ss 
and when the minute-hand made the circuit of the face, 



io8 Southern Literary Readings 

and the hour was to be stricken, there came from the 
brazen lungs of the clock a sound which was clear and loud 
and deep and exceedingly musical, but of so peculiar a note 

90 and emphasis that, at each lapse of an hour, the musicians 
of the orchestra were constrained to pause, momentarily, 
in their performance, to hearken to the sound; and thus 
the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions; and there 
was a brief disconcert of the whole gay company; and, 

95 while the chimes of the clock yet rang, it was observed 
that the giddiest grew pale, and the more aged and sedate 
passed their hands over their brows as if in confused 
revery or meditation. But when the echoes had fully 
ceased, a light laughter at once pervaded the assembly; 

100 the musicians looked at each other and smiled as if at their 
own nervousness and folly, and made whispering vows, 
each to the other, that the next chiming of the clock should 
produce in them no similar emotion; and then, after the 
lapse of sixty minutes (which embrace three thousand 

105 and six hundred seconds of the Time that flies) there 
came yet another chiming of the clock, and then were 
the same disconcert and tremulousness and meditation 
as before. 

But, in spite of these things, it was a gay and mag- 
no nificent revel. The tastes of the Prince were peculiar. 
He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded 
the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, 
and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. There 
are some who would have thought him mad. His followers 

115 felt that he was not. It was necessary to hear and see 
and touch him to be sure that he was not. 

He had directed, in great part, the movable embel- 
lishments of the seven chambers, upon occasion of this 
great fete; and it was his own guiding taste which had 

120 given character to the masqueraders. Be sure they were 



The Masque of the Red Death log 

grotesque. There were much glare and gHtter and piquancy 
and phantasm — much of what has been since seen in 
Hernani. There were arabesque figures with unsuited 
limbs and appointments. There were delirious fancies 
such as the madman fashions. There was much of the 12s 
beautiful, much of the wanton, much of the bizarre, 
something of the terrible, and not a little of that which 
might have excited disgust. To and fro in the seven 
chambers there stalked, in fact, a multitude of dreams. 
And these — the dreams — writhed in and about, taking 130 
hue from the rooms, and causing the wild music of the 
orchestra to seem as the echo of their steps. And, anon, 
there strikes the ebony clock which stands in the hall 
of the velvet. And then, for a moment, all is still, and 
all is silent save the voice of the clock. The dreams are 135 
stiff -frozen as they stand. But the echoes of the chime 
die away — they have endured but an instant — and a light, 
half -subdued laughter floats after them as they depart. 
And now again the music swells, and the dreams live, and 
writhe to and fro more merrily than ever, taking hue from 140 
the many tinted windows through which stream the rays 
from the tripods. But to the chamber which lies most 
v/estwardly of the seven, there are now none of the maskers 
who venture ; for the night is waning away, and there flows 
a ruddier light through the blood-colored panes ; and the 145 
blackness of the sable drapery appals ; and to him whose 
foot falls upon the sable carpet, there comes from the 
near clock of ebony a muffled peal more solemnly emphatic 
than any which reaches their ears who indulge in the more 
remote gayeties of the other apartments. 150 

But these other apartments were densely crowded, and 
in them beat feverishly the heart of life. And the revel 
went whirlingly on, until at length there commenced the 
sounding of midnight upon the clock. And then the music 



no Southern Literary Readings 

155 ceased, as I have told; and the evolutions of the waltzers 
were quieted; and there was an uneasy cessation of all 
things as before. But now there were twelve strokes to 
be sounded by the bell of the clock; and thus it happened, 
perhaps, that more of thought crept, with more of time, 

160 into the meditations of the thoughtful among those who 
revelled. And thus too it happened, perhaps, that before 
the last echoes of the last chime had utterly sunk into 
silence, there were many individuals in the crowd who 
had found leisure to become aware of the presence of a 

165 masked figure which had arrested the attention of no single 
individual before. And the rumor of this new presence 
having spread itself whisperingly around, there arose at 
length from the whole company a buzz, or murmur, expres- 
sive of disapprobation and surprise — then, finally, of 

170 terror, of horror, and of disgust. 

In an assembly of phantasms such as I have painted, it 
may well be supposed that no ordinary appearance could 
have excited such seijsation. In truth the masquerade 
license of the night was nearly unlimited; but the figure 

175 in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the 
bounds of even the Prince's indefinite decorum. There 
are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot 
be touched without emotion. Even with the utterly 
lost, to whom life and death are equally jests, there are 

180 matters of which no jest can be made. The whole com- 
pany, indeed, seemed now deeply to feel that in the cos- 
tume and bearing of the stranger neither wit not propriety 
existed. The figure was tall and gaunt, and shrouded 
from head to foot in the habiliments of the grave. The 

185 mask which concealed the visage was made so nearly to 
resemble the countenance of a stiffened corpse that the 
closest scrutiny must have had difficulty in detecting the 
cheat. And yet all this might have been endured, if not 



. The Masque of the Red Death iii 

approved, by the mad revellers around. But the mummer 
had gone so far as to assume the type of the Red Death, iqo 
His vesture was dabbled in blood — and his broad brow, 
with all the features of the face, was besprinkled with 
the scarlet horror. 

When the eyes of Prince Prospero fell upon this spectral 
image (which with a slow and solemn movement, as if more 195 
fully to sustain its role, stalked to and fro among the 
waltzers) he was seen to be convulsed, in the first moment, 
with a strong shudder either of terror or distaste; but, in 
the next, his brow reddened with rage. 

"Who dares?" he demanded hoarsely of the cour-200 
tiers who stood near him, — "who dares insult us with this 
blasphemous mockery? Seize him and unmask him — 
that we may know whom we have to hang at sunrise, 
from the battlements!" 

It was in the eastern or blue chamber in which stood 205 
the Prince Prospero as he uttered these words. They 
rang throughout the seven rooms loudly and clearly — 
for the Prince was a bold and robust man, and the music 
had become hushed at the waving of his hand. 

It was in the blue room where stood the Prince, with 210 
a group of pale courtiers by his side. At first, as he 
spoke, there was a slight rushing movement of this group 
in the direction of the intruder, who at the moment was 
also near at hand, and now, with deliberate and stately 
step, made closer approach to the speaker. But from a 215 
certain nameless awe with which the mad assumptions 
of the mummer had inspired the whole party, there were 
found none who put forth hand to seize him; so that, 
unimpeded, he passed within a yard of the Prince's per- 
son; and, while the vast assembly, as if with one impulse, 220 
shrank from the centres of the rooms to the walls, he made 
his way uninterruptedly, but with the same solemn and 



112 Southern Literary Readings 

measured step which had distinguished him from the first, 
through the blue chamber to the purple — through the 

225 purple to the green — through the green to the orange — 
through this again to the white — and even thence to the 
violet, ere a decided movement had been made to arrest 
him. It was then, however, that the Prince Prospero, 
maddening with rage and the shame of his own momentary 

230 cowardice, rushed hurriedly through the six chambers, 
while none followed him on account of a deadly terror 
that had seized upon all. He bore aloft a drawn dagger, 
and had approached, in rapid impetuosity, to within three 
or four feet of the retreating figure, when the latter, having 

235 attained the extremity of the velvet apartment, turned 
suddenly and confronted his pursuer. There was a sharp 
cry — and the dagger dropped gleaming upon the sable 
carpet, upon which, instantly afterwards, fell prostrate 
in death the Prince Prospero. Then, summoning the 

240 wild courage of despair, a throng of the revellers at once 
threw themselves into the black apartment, and, seizing 
the mummer, whose tall figure stood erect and motionless 
within the shadow of the ebony clock, gasped in unutter- 
able horror at finding the grave cerements and corpse-like 

245 mask, which they handled with so violent a rudeness, unten- 
anted by any tangible form. 

And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red 
Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And 
one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed 

250 halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture 
of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with 
that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods 
expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death 
held illimitable dominion over all. 



ALEXANDER BEAUFORT MEEK 

Once famous as judge, editor, lawmaker, historian, 
orator, to-day Alexander Beaufort Meek is remembered 
chiefly — we might almost say wholly — by a small sheaf 
of lyric poems. He was born in Columbia, South Carolina, 
July 17, 1 8 14; but when he was only five years of age his 
father moved to Tuscaloosa, Alabama, so Meek is usually 
recognized as an Alabamian. He entered the University 
of Alabama in the first year of its history, 1 83 1 , and two 
years later, with the highest honors, completed the course 
of the initial graduating class. He then studied law in 
the University of Georgia, and began the practice of his 
profession in Tuscaloosa in 1835. He was made Attorney- 
general of Alabama in 1836 to fill a temporary vacancy; 
and in 1842 was appointed Judge of Probate in Tuscaloosa 
County for an unexpired term. Three years later he was 
made Assistant Secretary of the United States Treasury. 
He remained in Washington only two years, however, 
removing in 1847 to Mobile, Alabama, where he lived until 
shortly before his death. Meek took a prominent part in 
state politics, being elected twice to the State Legislature. 
He was author of the bill providing for a system of free 
public schools for the state. Though living during the 
time of the Civil War, Meek took little part in it except 
when he could aid the cause with his pen. After the 
war he moved to Columbus, Mississippi, where he died, 
November 30, 1865. 

During all these busy years Judge Meek kept up inter- 
mittently his connection with the literary life of his section. 
Early in his career he was the editor of the Flag of the Union 
and the Southron at Tuscaloosa, and when he removed 
to Mobile he became an associate editor of the Register, 
one of the oldest of the Alabama daily papers. He kept 
up a literary correspondence with William Gilmore Simms, 
and also contributed to some of the magazines fostered 
by that indefatigable editor. Besides, Meek published a 

8 [113] 



114 Southern Literary Readings 

volume of prose sketches and orations and two volumes 
of poetry, Red Eagle (1855), a romantic poem on Weather- 
ford, the noted Creek chieftain, and Songs and Poem's oj 
the South (1857). In the poem Red Eagle occurs the 
beautiful blue-bird song, supposed to be sung by an Indian 
maiden to her lover^ but it is in the volume last named that 
the best of Meek's poetry is to be found, the most notable 
single poems being The Mocking-bird and Land of the 
South. 

(The best essays on Meek are those by Charles Hunter Ross 
in the Sewanee Review, August, 1896, and Peter J. Hamilton in 
The Library of Southern Literature, Vol. VIII.) 



LAND OP THE SOUTH 

I 
Land of the South! — imperial land! — 

How proud thy mountains rise! — 
How sweet thy scenes on every hand 1 
. How fair ihy covering skies ! 
But not for this, — oh, not for these, 

I love thy fields to roam, — 
Thou hast a dearer spell for me, — 

Thou art my native home ! 

II 
Thy rivers roll their liquid wealth, 

Unequalled to the sea, — 
Thy hills and valleys bloom with health, 

And green with verdure be ! 
But not for thy proud ocean streams, 

Not for thine azure dome, — 
Sweet, sunny South! — I cling to thee, — 

Thou art my native home 1 



Land of the South 115 

III 
I 've stood beneath Italia's clime, 

Beloved of tale and song, — 
On Helvyn's hills, proud and sublime, 

Where nature's wonders throng; 2c 

By Tempe's classic sunlit streams, 

Where gods, of old, did roam, — . 
But ne'er have found so fair a land 

As thou — my native home! 

IV 

And thou hast prouder glories too 25 

Than nature ever gave, — 
Peace sheds o'er thee her genial dew. 

And Freedom's pinions wave, — 
Fair science flings her pearls around. 

Religion lifts her dome, — 30 

These, these endear thee to my heart,— 

My own, loved native home ! 

V 

And "heaven's best gift to man" is thine, — 

God bless thy rosy girls ! — 
Like sylvan flowers, they sweetly shine, — 35 

Their hearts are pure as pearls ! 
And grace and goodness circle them, 

Where'er their footsteps roam, — 
How can I, then, whilst loving them, 

Not love my native home ! 40 

VI 

Land of the South! — imperial land! — 

Then here 's a health to thee, — 
Long as thy mountain barriers stand, 

May 'st thou be blest and free I 



ii6 Southern Literary Readings 

May dark dissension's banner ne'er 
Wave o'er thy fertile loam, — 

But should it come, there 's one will die 
To save his native home. 



THE MOCKING-BIRD 

From the vale, what music ringing, 

Fills the bosom of the night, 
On the sense, entranced, flinging 
Spells of witchery and delight ! 
O'er magnolia, lime, and cedar. 
From yon locust-top it swells, 
Like the chant of serenader. 
Or the rhymes of silver bells ! 
Listen ! dearest, listen to it ! 

Sweeter sounds were never neard ! 
'T is the song of that wild poet — 
Mime and minstrel — mocking-bird. 

See him, swinging in his glory, 

On yon topmost bending limb ! 
Carolling his amorous story, 

Like some wild crusader's hymn ! 
Now it faints in tones delicious 
As the first low vow of love ! 
Now it bursts in swells capricious, 
All the moonlit vale above ! 
Listen ! dearest, listen to it ! 

Sweeter sounds were never heard ! 
'T is the song of that wild poet — 
Mime and minstrel — mocking-bird. 



The Mocking-bird iif 

Why is 't thus this sylvan Petrarch 

Pours all night his serenade? 
'T is for some proud woodland Laura, 

His sad sonnets all are made ! 
But he changes now his measure — ■ 

Gladness bubbling from his mouth — 
Jest, and gibe, and mimic pleasure — 
Winged Anacreon of the South ! 
Listen ! dearest, listen to it ! 

Sweeter sounds were never heard ! 
'T is the song of that wild poet — 
Mime and minstrel — mocking-bird. 

Bird of music, wit, and gladness, 

Troubadour of sunny climes, 
Disen chanter of all sadness, — 

Would thine art were in my rhymes. 
O'er the heart that 's beating by me, 

I would weave a spell divine ; 
Is there aught she could deny me. 
Drinking in such strains as thine ? 
Listen! dearest, listen to it! 

Sweeter sounds were never heard' 
'T is the song of that wild poet — 
Mime and minstrel — mocking-bird. 



THEODORE O'HARA 

Theodore O'Hara was born at Danville, Kentucky, 
February ii, 1820. He was of Irish parentage, his father 
being a political exile from Ireland. O'Hara received a 
fairly good classical education at St. Joseph's College, in 
Bardstown, Kentucky, and afterward read law and was 
admitted to the bar. In 1846 he was made captain of a 
company being raised for the war with Mexico. He was 
promoted to the rank of major for conspicuous gallantry 
in several battles of this war. 

It was in this period that he wrote The Bivouac of the 
Dead, the poem that made him famous. The battle of 
Buena Vista was fought in 1847, between the American 
forces under General Zachary Taylor and the Mexicans 
under General Santa Anna. Two noted regiments, one 
from Mississippi under the command of Colonel Jefferson 
Davis, and the other from Kentucky, bore the brunt of 
the attack of the vastly superior Mexican forces. The 
Americans won a decisive victory, but many of the brave 
Mississippians and Kentuckians fell. When the bodies 
of the Kentucky soldiers were sent to their native state 
for burial, O'Hara wrote this magnificent elegy in com- 
memoration of their valor, and the poem at once sprang 
into wide popularity. It has appeared in practically every 
considerable collection of verse published in this country 
within the past half century. O'Hara's poetical genius 
was limited to a single note. He wrote one other poem of 
an elegiac nature — The Old Pioneer — composed in exactly 
the same meter and tone as The Bivouac of the Dead, but 
he did little or nothing else worthy to be remembered. 

Between the period of the Mexican War and the Civil 
War, O'Hara made some effort to practice law, but he was 
of too restless a nature to succeed. He joined Lopez 
in the latter's attempt to liberate Cuba, and was also 
interested in Walker's ill-fated expedition into Central 
America. In the meantime he was engaged with some 

[118] 



The Bivouac of the Dead iig 

success in editorial work on several newspapers, among 
them the Mobile Register, the Yeoman of Frankfort, 
Kentucky, and the Louisville Times. 

At the opening of the Civil War he was commissioned 
colonel of the Twelfth Alabama Regiment, and he later 
served on the staffs of Generals Albert Sidney Johnston 
and John C. Breckenridge. After the war O'Hara engaged 
in the cotton business in Columbus, Georgia, but he lost 
all he had in a fire and retired to a small place across the 
Chattahoochee in Alabama, where he died, June 6, 1867. 
Some years later, the Legislature of Kentucky appro- 
priated money to remove his body to Frankfort and place 
it beside the remains of the soldiers whose valor he had 
so nobly embalmed in his one great poem. 



THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD 

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat 

The soldier's last tattoo ; 
No more on Life's parade shall meet 

That brave and fallen few. 
On Fame's eternal camping ground 

Their silent tents are spread. 
And Glory guards, with solemn round, 

The bivouac of the dead. 

No rumor of the foe's advance 

Now swells upon the wind; 
No troubled thought at midnight haunts 

Of loved ones left behind ; 
No vision of the morrow's strife 

The warrior's dream alarms ; 
No braying horn nor screaming fife 

At dawn shall call to arms. 



120 Southern Literary Readings 

Their shivered swords are red with rust ; 

Their pluraed heads are bowed; 
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust, 

Is now their martial shroud. 
And plenteous funeral tears have washed 

The red stains from each brow. 
And the proud forms, by battle gashed, 

Are free from anguish now. 

The neighing troop, the flashing blade, 

The bugle's stirring blast, 
The charge, the dreadful cannonade. 

The din and shout, are past; 
Nor war's wild note, nor glory's peal, 

Shall thrill with fierce delight 
Those breasts that nevermore may feel 

The rapture of the fight. 

Like the fierce northern hurricane 

That sweeps his great plateau, 
Flushed with 'the triumph yet to gain, 

Came down the serried foe. 
Who heard the thunder of the fray 

Break o'er the field beneath, 
Knew well the watchword of that day 

Was "Victory or Death." 

Long had the doubtful conflict raged 

O'er all that stricken plain, 
For never fiercer fight had waged 

The vengeful blood of Spain; 
And still the storm of battle blew, 

Still swelled the gory tide ; 
Not long, our stout old chieftain knew, 

Such odds his strength could bide. 



The Bivouac of the Dead 121 

'Twas in that hour his stern command 

Called to a martyr's grave 
The flower of his beloved land 

The nation's flag to save. 
By rivers of their fathers' gore 

His first-bom laurels grew, 
And well he deemed the sons would pour 

Their lives for glory too. 

Full many a norther's breath has swept, 

O'er Angostura's plain, — 
And long the pitying sky has wept 

Above its mouldered slain. 
The raven's scream or eagle's flight 

Or shepherd's pensive lay. 
Alone awakes each sullen height 

That frowned o'er that dread fray. 

Sons of the Dark and Bloody ground, 

Ye must not slumber there. 
Where stranger steps and tongues resound 

Along the heedless air. 
Your own proud land's heroic soil 

Shall be your fitter grave : 
She claims from war his richest spoil — 

The ashes of her brave. 

Thus 'neath their parent turf they rest, 

Far from the gory field 
Borne to a Spartan mother's breast 

On many a bloody shield ; 
The sunshine of their native sky 

Smiles sadly on them here. 
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by 

The heroes' sepulchre. 



122 Southern Literary Readings 

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead ! 

Dear as the blood ye gave, 
No impious footstep here shall tread 

The herbage of your grave; 
Nor shall your story be forgot, 

While Fame her record keeps, 
Or Honor points the hallowed spot 

Where Valor pr'oudly sleeps. 

Yon marble minstrel's voiceless stone 

In deathless song shall tell. 
When many a vanished age hath flown, 

The story how ye fell ; 
Nor wreck, nor change, nor winter's blight, 

Nor Time's remorseless doom, 
Shall dim one ray of glory's light 

That gilds your deathless tomb. 



LAMAR, PINKNEY, AND COOKE 

Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar, Edward Coote Pinkney, 
and Philip Pendleton Cooke are three Southerners of 
ante-bellum days who may be grouped together because 
each is best remembered for a single poem of sentiment — 
Lamar for The Daughter of Mendoza, Pinkney for A Healthy 
and Cooke for Florence Vane. 

Mirabeau Buonaparte Lamar, born in Louisville, Georgia, 
August 1 6, 1798, won enduring fame as a patriot, states- 
man, and poet in Texas and therefore is generally known 
as a Texan. He received a common-school education in 
Georgia and began life as a bus:^ness man; but being a 
great reader and student, he soon turned his attention 
to journalism, becoming for a time the editor of the 
Columbus (Georgia) Enquirer, a paper which still enjoys 
a wide circulation in west Georgia and east Alabama. In 
1835 Lamar removed to Texas and took part in the war 
which led to its independence, entering the service as a 
private. In the battle of San Jacinto, having been 
raised to the rank of colonel, he won fame as leader of 
the cavalry division which put the Mexicans to rout and 
captured their general, Santa Anna. Judge A. W. Terrell 
of Austin, Texas, who saw Lamar about 1835, says: 
"His long, jet-black hair was tinged with gray; he was of 
dark complexion and about five feet ten inches tall, 
with broad shoulders, deep chest, symmetrical limbs, and 
under his high forehead blue eyes looked out in calm repose. 
His clean-cut, handsome features spoke of high resolve 
and indomitable will." Speaking of his rapid rise to posi- 
tions of trust. Judge Terrell further says: "Within ten 
days [after the battle of San Jacinto] Lamar was made 
Secretary of War; in four weeks the cabinet appointed 
him Commander-in-chief of the Army ; in four months he 
was elected Vice-president of the Republic; and in three 
years. President without opposition. No private soldier 

[123] 



124 Southern Literary Readings 

ever rose so rapidly from the ranks to the supreme author- 
ity through so many important offices, mihtary and civil." 
After the admission of Texas into the Union, President 
Lamar was appointed successively to diplomatic posts 
in the Argentine Republic and in Nicaragua and Costa 
Rica. In 1857 he published his Verse Memorials, a 
volume of fairly good poetry; but he is better known 
through his single poem, The Daughter of Mendoza, 
written about 1858, while he was minister to Nicaragua 
and Costa Rica. For a fuller description of this poem 
see the notes on page 424. 

President Lamar died December 19, 1859, and was 
buried at Richmond, Texas, his home. He was a very 
methodical and industrious man, and he amassed a large 
collection of valuable manuscripts of his own private com- 
positions and public documents, and of the diaries and 
memoirs of other early settlers in Texas. These valuable 
papers are now to be found in the State Library at Austin, 
Texas. 

Edward Coote Pinkney, son of William Pinkney, the 
famous orator and statesman, was born in London, Octo- 
ber I, 1802, while his father was United States minister to 
the court of St. James. The family returned to America 
in 1804, but again went to London in 1806, and Edward 
was about nine years old when he was finally brought to 
America and put in school at Baltimore. At fourteen 
he entered the United States navy as a midshipman, serv- 
ing for eight years, during which time he traveled exten- 
sively. Resigning from the navy in 1822, he prepared for 
the practice of law, and two years later was admitted to 
the bar. Like many another Southern lawyer, he preferred 
literature to law, and he presently became editor of 
the Marylander. His health gave way, however, and 
on April 3, 1827, less than a year after he assumed his 
editorial position, he died. In his short life he wrote 
a considerable volume of poetry, all of which is above 
mediocrity; but it is on A Health that his fame chiefly 
rests so far as the general public is concerned. English 
critics have admired this poem; and Edgar Allan Poe 
reprinted it in his essay on The Poetic Principle, saying: 



Lamar, Pinkney, and Cooke 12^ 

"The poem just cited is especially beautiful; but the 
poetic elevation which it induces we must refer chiefly to 
our sympathy in the poet's enthusiasm. We pardon his 
hyperboles for the evident earnestness with which they 
are uttered. " For further comment on this poem see the 
notes, page 425. 

Philip Pendleton Cooke, an elder brother of the novelist 
John Esten Cooke, was born in Martinsburg, Virginia, 
October 26, 18 16. He was educated at Princeton College 
and later took up the study of law. But he never rose to 
eminence in his profession, for it is said that he was too 
fond of hunting and of writing poetry and novels ever 
to make a great success at the law. His novels were 
fairly popular in their day, but they are no longer remem- 
bered; his poetry, however, has met with more lasting 
favor. The best of all his productions, according to popu- 
lar estimation, is the sentimental ballad here reprinted. 
Cooke was a very modest man and took his popularity 
modestly and unaffectedly. He did not have the energy 
or ambition to do great work, and what he did was thrown 
off without excessive labor or hard study. In 1847 his 
single volume of poetry, Froissart Ballads and Other Poems, 
appeared. Some of the ballads are long and somewhat 
tiresome, but the short poems of a sad and pathetic turn, 
like Florence Vane and Young Rosalie Lee, are well worthy 
of the fame which has been accorded them. An historical 
note on the first-named of these poems will be found in 
the notes of this volume, page 426. 

Cooke died January 20, 1850, from an attack of pneu- 
monia brought on by exposure during a hunting trip. 



THE DAUGHTER OF MENDOZA 

O lend to me, sweet nightingale, 

Your music by the fountains 1 
And lend to me your cadences, 

O river of the mountains ! 
That I may sing my gay brunette, 
A diamond spark in coral set. 
Gem for a prince's coronet — 

The daughter of Mendoza. 

How brilliant is the morning star ! 

The evening star, how tender ! 
The light of both is in her eye, 

Their softness and their splendor. 
But for the lash that shades their light , 
They were too dazzling for the sight ; 
And when she shuts them, all is night — 

The daughter of Mendoza. 

O ! ever bright and beauteous one, 

Bewildering and beguiling, 
The lute is in thy silvery tone. 

The rainbow in thy smiling. 
And thine is, too, o'er hill and dell. 
The bounding of the young gazelle. 
The arrow's flight and ocean's swell — 

Sweet daughter of Mendoza! 

What though, perchance, we meet no more ? 
What though too soon we sever ? 

[126] 



A Health 127 

Thy form will float like emerald light, 

Before my vision ever. 
For who can see and then forget 
The glories of my gay brunette ? so 

Thou art too bright a star to set — 

Sweet daughter of Mendoza ! 



A HEALTH 

I fill this cup to one made up of loveliness alone, 
A woman, of her gentle sex the seeming paragon; 
To whom the better elements and kindly stars have given 
A form so fair that, hke the air, 'tis less of earth than 
heaven. 

Her every tone is music's own, like those of morning birds, s 
And something more than melody dwells ever in her words ; 
The coinage of her heart are they, and from her lips each 

flows 
As one may see the burthened bee forth issue from the rose. 

Affections are as thoughts to her, the measures of her 

hours ; 
Her feelings have the fragrancy, the freshness of young 10 

flowers ; 
And lovely passions, changing oft, so fill her, she appears 
The image of themselves by turns — the idol of past years! 

Of her bright face one glance will trace a picture on the 

brain. 
And of her voice in echoing hearts a sound must long 

remain, 



128 Southern Literary Readings 

15 But memory such a.s mine of her so very much endears, 
When death is nigh, my latest sigh will not be life's but 

hers. 
I filled this cup to one made up of loveliness alone, 
A woman, of her gentle sex the seeming paragon — 
Her health ! and would on earth there stood some more of 
such a frame, 
20 That life might be all poetry, and weariness a name. 



FLORENCE VANE 

I loved thee long and dearly, 

Florence Vane ; 
My life's bright dream and early 

Hath come again; 
I renew in my fond vision, 

My heart's dear pain — 
My hope, g,nd thy derision, 

Florence Vane. 

The ruin lone and hoary, 

The ruin old. 
Where thou did'st hark my story 

At even told — 
That spot, the hues Elysian 

Of sky and plain, 
I treasure in my vision, 

Florence Vane. 

Thou wast lovelier than the roses 

In their prime ; 
Thy voice excelled the closes 

Of sweetest rhyme. 



Florence Vane I2g 

Thy heart was as a river 

Without a main — 
Would I had loved thee never, 

Florence Vane ! 

But fairest, coldest wonder ! 

Thy glorious clay 
Lieth the green sod under — 

Alas the day ! 
And it boots not to remember 

Thy disdain — 
To quicken love's pale ember, 

Florence Vane. 

The lilies of the valley, 

By young graves weep, 
The pansies love to dally 

Where maidens sleep. 
May their bloom, in beauty vying, 

Never wane, 
Where thine earthly part is lying, 

Florence Vane! 



ALBERT PIKE 

Though bom in Boston, in 1809, and reared and educated 
in New England, Albert Pike is known distinctly as a 
Southerner, for he spent almost sixty years of his life 
in Southern states and during those years devoted his 
talents to the South. He worked his way upward, direct- 
ing his own career from early youth, when he was left 
an orphan, and earning the money with which to pay for 
his education. In 183 1 he left his native state and started 
for the West, to seek his fortune. 

The destination that he had in mind was the Pacific 
Coast, but after wandering here and there, he finally 
stopped at Fort Smith, Arkansas, and determined to cast 
his lot with the people of this new middle-west country. 
Here he at first supported himself by teaching, devoting 
his free time to writing. Having attracted attention by 
his contributions to the Little Rock Advocate, Pike was 
presently invited to become associate editor of that paper. 
He gave up his position as teacher at Fort Smith, and 
began to learn the newspaper business from the ground 
up, setting type, managing the circulation, and writing 
editorials. But his was a large and restless spirit, and 
soon he turned to new spheres of activity. After studying 
law by himself for a time, he was admitted without 
examination to practice in the Arkansas courts. Later 
he decided to change his practice to the Louisiana courts, 
and this necessitated his reviewing his Latin and French 
studies in order to be able to interpret the Louisiana law. 
In a short time he removed to New Orleans, where he 
practiced successfully for several years. 

In his youth Pike had written much poetry — some of it 
classic in quality as well as in subject matter. In 183 1 
he published his Hymns to the Gods, and a few years later 
Christopher North, editor of Blackwood's Magazine, 
recognizing the worth of these poems and praising them 
highly, republished them in his periodical. In 1834 

[130] 



Albert Pike iji 

Prose Sketches and Poems appeared and, shortly afterward, 
Ariel, an imaginative long poem, said to have been written 
on the prairie while the poet's horse was grazing by his 
side. The famous Ode to the Mocking-bird was written 
in this same year, but not published until 1836; it was 
republished in Blackwood's Magazine in 1840. A final 
volume of collected poems, Nugce, was published for 
private circulation in 1854. 

In the meantime Pike had won fame and fortune as a 
lawyer, as a man of affairs, as a leader in fraternal orders, 
and as a soldier. When the Mexican War broke out 
in 1846 he organized and became captain of a cavalry 
troop, serving brilliantly under General Taylor. At the 
opening of the Civil War he joined the Confederate army 
and was commissioned brigadier-general. Resigning from 
the army, he later became a judge of the supreme court 
of Arkansas. 

After the war. General Pike practiced law in Memphis, 
Tennessee, and for a time was editor-in-chief of the 
Memphis Appeal. In 1868 he sold his interest in this 
paper and moved to Washington, D. C, where, except for 
a brief residence in Alexandria, Virginia, he remained until 
his death in 1891. 

General Pike early became interested in the work of the 
fraternal orders, and was a leading Oddfellow and Mason. 
He wrote many books and delivered many lectures on 
masonic subjects, and was recognized as the most distin- 
guished Mason in America. He held the highest offices 
within the gift of the order, being for thirty-two years 
Grand Commander of the Scottish Rite Masons. 

As a poet General Pike has not taken high rank, but a 
few of his poems, notably the Ode to the Mocking-bird, Ode 
to Spring, Every '"Year, and his fiery war song Dixie, will 
long be cherished by lovers of poetry. He had the fire and 
imagination requisite for the production of great poetry, 
but he was lacking in the sense for perfect form and 
compact structure, and so even the best of his poems are 
marred by diffuseness and weakness. 

(The authoritative sketch of General Pike's Hfe, by his daughter, 
Mrs. LilHan Pike Roome, is to be found in the complete edition of 
his Poems, published in 1900.) 



EVERY YEAR 

Life is a count of losses, 

Every year; 
For the weak are heavier crosses, 

Every year; 
Lost Springs with sobs replying 
Unto weary Autumn's sighing, 
While those we love are dying. 

Every year. 

It is growing darker, colder, 

Every year; 
As the heart and soul grow older, 

Every year; 
I care not now for dancing, 
Or for eyes with passion glancing. 
Love is less and less entrancing. 

Every year. 

The days have less of gladness. 

Every year; 
The nights more weight of sadness, 

Every year; 
Fair Springs no longer charm us, 
The winds and weather harm us, 
The threats of Death alarm us, 

Every year. 

There come new cares and sorrows, 
Every year; 

[132] 



Every Year ijj 

Dark days and darker morrows, 

Every year; 
The ghosts of dead loves haunt us, 
The ghosts of changed friends taunt us, 
And disappointments daunt us, 

Every year. 

Of the loves and sorrows blended, 

Every year; 
Of the charms of friendship ended, 

Every year ; 
Of the ties that still might bind me, 
Until Time to Death resigned me, 
My infirmities remind me, 

Every year. 

Ah! how sad to look before us, 

Every year; 
While the cloud grows darker o'er us. 

Every year ; 
When we see the blossoms faded. 
That to bloom we might have aided, 
And immortal garlands braided. 

Every year. 

To the Past go more dead faces. 

Every year ; 
As the loved leave vacant places. 

Every year ; 
Everywhere the sad eyes meet us, 
In the evening's dusk they greet us. 
And to come to them entreat us, 

Every year. 



134 Southern Literary Readings 

"You are growing old," they tell us, 

"Every year; 
You are more alone," they tell us, 

"Every year; 
You can win no new affection. 
You have only recollection, 
Deeper sorrow and dejection, 

Every year." 

The shores of life are shifting, 

Every year; 
And we are seaward drifting, 

Every year; 
Old places, changing, fret us. 
The living more forget us. 
There are fewer to regret us. 

Every year. 

But the truer life draws nigher. 

Every "y ear; 
And its morning star climbs higher. 

Every year; 
Earth's hold on us grows slighter, 
And the heavy burden lighter, 
And the Dawn Immortal brighter. 

Every year. 



JOHN REUBEN THOMPSON 

John Reuben Thompson won more distinction as an 
editor and professional journaHst than as an original or 
creative writer. He was one of the leading literary spirits 
of his day; yet he never was able to set himself steadily 
to any creative work that was worthy of his ability, his 
fine literary taste, and his broad knowledge and attain- 
ments. He was quick to discover and encourage literary 
gifts possessed by others, and assisted many of his con- 
temporaries in the South to the attainment of that fame 
which he himself never won. 

He was born in Richmond, Virginia, October 23, 1823. 
Having received his preliminary education in Connecticut, 
he entered the law department of the University of 
Virginia and was graduated in 1844. He began the 
practice of his profession in his native city, but in 1847 
he abandoned law for journalism, having accepted the 
editorship of the Sotithern Literary Messenger, a journal 
of which Poe had been editor for a time, and which had 
attained a high position among the periodicals of the 
day. It is generally acknowledged that to Thompson 
is due the credit of making the Messenger, during his 
long incumbency as editor, not only the chief literary 
organ of the South but one of the two or three most 
influential magazines in America. In 1854 Thompson 
went to Europe, where he met many distinguished literary 
people — Macaulay, Thackeray, Dickens, the Brownings, 
and Bulwer Lytton ; he became particularly intimate with 
Macaulay and Thackeray, and it is said that for the 
latter he wrote one chapter of The Virginians. After his 
return to America he earned an enviable reputation as a 
lecturer, his most popular and often-repeated lecture being 
"The Life and Genius of Edgar Allan Poe." 

In i860 Thompson gave up his position on the Messenger 
to accept a more lucrative position on the Southern Field 
and Fireside, published in Augusta, Georgia. Within a 

[135] 



1^6 Southern Literary Readings 

year the Civil War broke out, and practically all literary and 
journalistic activity was at once suspended. Thompson 
returned to Virginia to take part in the conflict, but ill 
health prevented him from entering into active military 
service. He became Assistant Secretary of the Common- 
wealth, wrote vigorous articles for the press, composed 
many stirring war poems, and in every way possible 
aided the Southern cause. In 1864 he went to England 
to assume the editorship of the Index, a journal published 
in London to arouse interest in the Confederacy. His 
articles in this paper at once attracted attention. Here 
also he renewed his association with the literary people 
whom he had met on- his previous visit and made the 
acquaintance of many other prominent persons, among 
them Carlyle and Tennyson, with both of whom he 
became intimate. 

Returning to America in 1866, he again entered upon 
his journalistic work, contributing reviews and criticism 
to various periodicals. Eventually he was invited by 
William Cullen Bryant to join the literary staff of the 
New York Evening Post. He did notable work for this 
paper for several years, but his health finally became so 
impaired that he was induced to seek relief in a drier 
climate. He went to Colorado in 1873, but soon realizing 
that his days were numbered, he returned to his work 
after a few weeks. He died in New York, April 30, 1873, 
and was buried in his native city, Richmond, Virginia. 

Thompson wrote a number of good war poems, among 
them Ashley, The Battle Rainbow, The Burial of Latane, 
and The Death of Stuart — the last-named being aptly 
characterized by Margaret Junkin Preston as a "ringing 
ballad" which ** sends the bold Stuart riding down the 
years." But by far the most popular of his productions is 
Music in Camp. 



MUSIC IN CAMP 

Two armies covered hill and plain, 
Where Rappahannock's waters 

Ran deeply crimsoned with the stain 
Of battle's recent slaughters. 

The summer clouds lay pitched like tents 

In meads of heavenly azure ; 
And each dread gun of the elements 

Slept in its hid embrasure. 

The breeze so softly blew, it made 

No forest leaf to quiver, 
And the smoke of the random cannonade 

Rolled slowly from the river. 

And now, where circling hills looked down 

With cannon grimly planted, 
O'er listless camp and silent town 

The golden sunset slanted. 

When on the fervid air there came 
A strain, now rich, now tender; 

The music seemed itself aflame 
With day's departing splendor. 

A Federal band, which, eve and morn. 
Played measures brave and nimble, 

Had just struck up, with flute and horn 
And lively clash of cymbal. 

[137] 



Ij8 Southern Literary Readings 

Down flocked the soldiers to the banks, 
Till, margined by its pebbles. 

One wooded shore was blue with "Yanks," 
And one was gray with ''Rebels." 

Then all was still, and then the band, 
With movement light and tricksy. 

Made stream and forest, hill and strand. 
Reverberate with "Dixie." 

The conscious stream with burnished glow 
Went proudly o'er its pebbles, 

But thrilled throughout its deepest flow 
With yelling of the Rebels. 

Again a pause, and then again 
The trumpets pealed sonorous. 

And "Yankee Doodle" was the strain 
To which the shore gave chorus. 

The laughing ripple shoreward flew. 
To kiss the shining pebbles ; 

Loud shrieked the swarming Boys in Blue 
Defiance to the Rebels. 

And yet once more the bugle sang 

Above the stormy riot ; 
No shout upon the evening rang — 

There reigned a holy quiet. 

The sad, slow stream its noiseless flood 
Poured o'er the glistening pebbles; 

All silent now the Yankees stood. 
And silent stood the Rebels. 



Music in Camp 139 

No unresponsive soul had heard 

That plaintive note's appealing, 
So deeply "Home, Sweet Home" had stirred 
The hidden founts of feeling. 

Or Blue or Gray, the soldier sees 

As by the wand of fairy, 
The cottage 'neath the live-oak trees, 

The cabin by the prairie. 

Or cold or warm, his native skies 

Bend in their beauty o'er him; 
Seen through the tear-mist in his eyes, 

His loved ones stand before him. 

As fades the iris after rain 

In April's tearful weather, 
The vision vanished as the strain 

And daylight died together. 

But memory, waked by Music's art. 

Expressed in simplest numbers. 
Subdues the sternest Yankee's heart, 

Made light the Rebel's slumbers. 

And fair the form of Music shines. 

That bright, celestial creature. 
Who still, 'mid war's embattled lines, 

Gave this one touch of Nature. 



FRANCIS ORRAY TICKNOR 

Dr. Orray Ticknor and Harriot Coolidge, the parents 
of Dr. Francis Orray Ticknor the poet, came from 
Connecticut and settled near Savannah, Georgia, in 1815. 
Shortly afterward they moved to Fortville in Jones 
County, in the central part of the state, and here their 
three children, of whom Francis Orray was the youngest, 
were born. The date of Francis's birth was November 13 , 
1822, and five months later the father died. The widow 
moved with her three young children to Columbus, 
Georgia, in order to give her family better advantages. 
Here the children grew up and attended school. At an 
early age Francis was sent to college in Massachusetts, 
and then given a good medical education in New York 
and Philadelphia institutions. 

'After graduation, young Dr. Ticknor spent a year with 
his mother's people in Norwich, Connecticut, studyingunder 
the tutelage of the best physician of the town. He then 
returned to Georgia, settling in Lumpkin County to prac- 
tice his profession. He married Rosalie Nelson, daughter 
of Major Thomas M. Nelson of Virginia, then living in 
Columbus, Georgia. Three years after his marriage. 
Dr. Ticknor moved with his family to an estate seven 
miles from Columbus, and here he soon became a sort of 
Good Samaritan in his community, riding far and near 
to relieve suffering, and devoting himself unselfishly to the 
needs of his people. He named his home Torch Hill, and 
it became, as it were, a beacon light of hope and relief to 
the distressed of all classes in the neighborhood. 

He was passionately fond of flowers, and prided himself 
on having the finest rose garden to be found in his state. 
He loved his orchards and his fields of cotton and corn 
as well, and he wrote for the newspapers a number of 
articles on horticulture and kindred subjects. In his 
leisure, either for his own or his friends' pleasure, he wrote 
occasional poems. These were mere fugitive pieces, for 

[140] 



Francis Or ray Ticknor 141 

the most part, for he had no idea of publishing any of 
them and no thought of producing anything of per- 
manent value. After his verses had served the purpose 
of pleasing his friends, he usually destroyed the manu- 
scripts; but his wife, setting a higher value on these 
ephemeral productions, saved such scraps of the doc- 
tor's writing as she could collect, many of his poems being 
scattered here and there in the neighborhood, written 
on prescription blanks and odd fragments of paper while 
he was watching by his patients. 

Much of Dr. Ticknor's poetry found its way into jour- 
nals and newspapers, however, and won for him a some- 
what wider and more appreciative audience. During 
the Civil War, when the good physician was devoting 
himself to the service of his sick and wounded fellow 
countrymen, his poetic faculty seems to have been quick- 
ened into a finer productivity, gaining notably in power; 
and some of the poems written in those years are now 
among the most highly prized lyrics in our war literature. 
The Virginians of the Valley is one of his best-known songs, 
but Little Gijffen is beyond question his strongest and most 
original poem. Many others of his songs deserve and have 
latterly received high praise, but his poems as a whole 
have not been widely read. In fact, until recently 
they have not been accessible to the public in any large 
way. Five years after Dr. Ticknor's death, in 1874, an 
incomplete volume of his poems was pubhshed, edited by 
Miss Kate Roland and having an appreciative introduction 
by Paul Hamilton Hayne, a warm friend and admirer of 
the poet-physician. In 191 1 an enlarged edition with 
additional biographical material from authoritative sources 
was published, edited by Miss Michelle CutlifE Ticknor, the 
poet's grand-daughter. 



LITTLE GIFFEN 

Out of the focal and foremost fire, 
Out of the hospital walls as dire, 
Smitten of grape-shot and gangrene, . 
(Eighteenth battle, and he sixteen !) 
Specter! such as you seldom see, 
Little Giffen, of Tennessee ! 

"Take him and welcome!" the surgeons said: 

Little the doctor can help the dead ! 

So we took him, and brought him where 

The balm was sweet in the summer air; 

And we laid him down on a wholesome bed— 

Utter Lazarus, heel to head ! 

And we watched the war with abated breath. 
Skeleton boy against skeleton death. 
Months of torture, how many such? 
Weary weeks of the stick and crutch ; 
And still a glint of the steel-blue eye 
Told of a spirit that wouldn't die. 

And didn't. Nay, more! in death's despite 
The crippled skeleton learned to write. 
"Dear Mother," at first, of course; and then, 
"Dear Captain," inquiring about the men. 
Captain's answer: "Of eighty and five, 
Giffen and I are left alive." 

Word of gloom from the war, one day; 
Johnston pressed at the front, they say. 

[142] 



Little Giffen 14J 

Little Giffen was up and away; 

A tear — his first — as he bade good-by, 

Dimmed the gHnt of his steel-blue eye. 

* ' I '11 write, if spared ! ' ' There was news of the fight ; 30 

But none of Giffen. He did not write. 

I sometimes fancy that were I king 

Of the princely knights of the Golden Ring, 

With the song of the minstrel in mine ear, 

And the tender legend that trembles here. 35 

I 'd give the best on his bended knee, 

The whitest soul of my chivalry. 

For "Little Giffen," of Tennessee. 



HENRY TIMROD 

Time has dealt both harshly and kindly with Henry 
Timrod. During his life this young South Carolinian 
suffered perhaps more than any one of his long-suffering 
fellow poets of the Civil War and Reconstruction periods, 
but gradually his fame has expanded until now he is uni- 
versally recognized as one of the four or five major poets 
of the South, being placed second only to Lanier and Poe. 
His work at times undoubtedly reaches a higher level than 
that of his lifelong friend, Paul Hamilton Hayne, and the 
actual product of his thirty-seven years of ill-starred, 
poverty-stricken, diseased-haunted life, though but an 
indication of what he might have accomplished under 
more favorable circumstances, yet gives him the right to 
an honorable place among the song-crowned sons of 
America. 

Like Paul Hayne, Henry Timrod came of an excellent 
family, who in Revolutionary times had settled in the 
aristocratic and culttired city of Charleston, South Caro- 
lina. There was less than a month's difference between 
the natal days of the two poets, Timrod being bom on 
December 8, 1829, and Hayne on January i, 1830. The 
boys became acquainted while attending the same private 
school in Charleston, where they sat together for a time 
and became intimate cronies. 

Although Timrod is described as a shy and timid youth, 
slow of speech while quick to learn, he was a thoroughly 
likable lad, and was a general favorite among his play- 
mates. He took an active part in all outdoor sports 
and games, even in fighting, and he was fond of getting 
away from the city to take long rambles in the woods. 

When he was about seventeen years old Timrod entered 
the University of Georgia with bright prospects. He made 
a fairly good record as a student, especially in the liter- 
ary and classic branches, but he spent much of his time 
in verse-making. His education was cut short through 

U44] 






}(^'!-i^l..Si 



W 








From a portrait in the possession of the Charleston 
Library Society. Courtesy of the trustees 

HENRY TIMROD 



Henry Timrod 14^ 

lack of financial means, however, and he left college 
without a degree. This was the first great disappoint- 
ment of his life. 

Returning to Charleston, he entered the ofiice of the 
Honorable J. L. Petigru, one of the best-known lawyers 
of the city, to prepare for a professional career; but he 
soon found law work distasteful and his preceptor uncon- 
genial, and so he went out to earn his livelihood by tutor- 
ing in private families. Aspiring to a professorship in the 
classics, Timrod read diligently to prepare himself for this 
work. But he was born under an unlucky star, it seems, 
for he was always approaching very near to, but never 
quite realizing, his most cherished desires. He found no 
suitable opening for a successful teaching career, so for 
about ten years he toiled on at private tutoring here and 
there, wherever he found work. 

All this time poetry was his constant companion and 
consolation. He contributed both prose and verse to 
Southern literary journals, such as Russell's Magazine 
and the Southern Literary Messenger. He published a 
small volume of poems in i860, and as Hayne said, *'a 
better first volume of the kind has seldom appeared any- 
where. " In this volume were The Lily Confidante , A 
Vision of Poesy, and other worthy efforts. The book was 
well received by the reviewers, but there could not have 
been in the whole history of our country, perhaps, a more 
unpropitious moment for the publication of a volume of 
purely nature and personal lyrics. The people were in no 
mood to read love songs or disquisitions on the nature of 
poesy. Again we find disappointment and failure Timrod's 
portion, for there were few buyers of his modest volume, 
and consequently no material returns to the impecunious 
young author. 

But hope smiled anew, and Timrod threw himself 
with intense zeal into the approaching struggle between 
the sections. He was too frail physically to bear arrq^ or 
undergo the hardships of military life, but he went to the 
front as a war correspondent for the Charleston Mercury, 
and was continually helping the Southern cause by com- 
posing the fiery war songs which gave him such wide fame 
in those years of struggle and which won for him a place 

10 



146 Southern Literary Readings 

in the foremost rank of our war poets. His Ethnogenesis, 
written in February, 1861, on the birth of the Southern 
Confederacy at Montgomery, Alabama, is a magnificent 
ode, and except for the fact that it celebrates a ''lost 
cause ' ' there is no doubt that long ago it would have been 
crowned as one of the supreme productions of our nation 
in this kind of poetry. By far the best-known and m.ost 
highly praised of Timrod's longer poems. The Cotton Boll, 
was written about the same time. Though more strictly 
a nature poem, it concludes with a strong patriotic appeal, 
and is sometimes classed as a war poem. His Carolina 
and A Cry to Arms are fiery war songs. These poems, and 
many others like them, were widely circulated and enthu- 
siastically received all over the South. So prominent had 
Timrod become as a representative Southern poet that in 
1862 his friends proposed to bring out an illustrated edition 
of his poems in England, the artist Vizetelli, then war cor- 
respondent of the London Illustrated News, promising to 
supply the engravings. But in the stress of the war period 
the project fell through, and again, on the very verge of 
apparent success, our poet met his old foes, misfortune and 
disappointment . 

Early in 1864 Timrod accepted an editorial position 
on the South Carolinidn of Columbia, South Carolina, and 
with this prospect for permanent employment he married 
Miss Kate Goodwin, an English girl. This lady was 
the ideal of many of his poetic fancies and the heroine 
of some of his best love poems. The long poem Katie, 
which celebrates the beauty and charm of Miss Goodwin, 
is full of exquisite imagery and fine descriptive passages. 

Little more than a year of happiness was vouchsafed 
him. On December 24, 1864, was bom to him a son, the 
"Little Willie" whom he mourns in a pathetic lyric in less 
than a year after the child's birth. After the death of 
his son the poet lost much of his hopefulness and buoyancy. 
General Sherman's army had destroyed the beautiful city 
of Columbia almost exactly one year after the date of 
Timrod's marriage, and there was nothing left to him but 
poverty and distress from that time on to the .end 
of his life. He tried to bear up bravely, and in a letter 
to his friend Hayne in 1866 he humorously refers to the 



Henry Timrod 14^ 

gradual sale of what little furniture and silverware that 
had been saved from the wreck, to meet the bare neces- 
sities of existence. ''We have — let me see — yes, we have 
eaten two silver pitchers, one or two dozen silver forks, 
several sofas, innumerable chairs, and a huge bedstead." 
He continued his work on the Carolinian, — the paper had 
now been moved to Charleston, — but in a letter to Hayne 
he stated that for four months he had not received a dollar 
, of his promised salary. 

One brief respite came before the end, when in the 
summer of 1867 Timrod, by the advice of his physicians 
and at the urgent solicitation of his old friend, went for 
two visits of about one month each to Copse Hill, the home 
of Paul Hamilton Hayne, who was now living in the pine 
barrens of Georgia about sixteen miles from Augusta. 
Hayne writes sympathetically of their comradeship dur- 
ing these visits, both in his introductory memoir in the 
1873 edition of Timrod's poems and in his beautiful 
reminiscences of the poet in Under the Pine and By the Grave 
of Henry Timrod. From this visit, though greatly revived 
in spirits and apparently in health also, Timrod returned 
home to die. On September thirteenth he wrote to Hayne 
that he had suffered a severe hemorrhage from the lungs, 
and this was speedily followed by others, still more severe. 
He died October 7, 1867. 

Since the publication, by the Timrod Memorial Society, 
of his poems (in 1889), Timrod's grave in Trinity 
Church Cemetery, Columbia, which for many years 
remained unmarked, and for many more was marked 
only by a small shaft erected by a few of his admirers, 
has been crowned with a huge bowlder of gray granite. 
Historians of American literature have been drawn to 
give more prominence to Timrod's work, and what is 
quite as gratifying, his poetry is being read and studied 
more and more every year. 

(For appreciations of Timrod see the Introduction to the 
Memorial Volume of his Poems and the essay by Charles Hunter 
Ross in the Quarterly Review of the Methodist Episcopal Church 
South, January, 1893.) 



THE LILY CONFIDANTE 

Lily! lady of the garden! 

Let me press my lip to thine ! 
Love must tell its story, Lily ! 

Listen thou to mine. 

Two I choose to know the secret — • 
Thee, and yonder wordless flute; 

Dragons watch me, tender Lily, 
And thou must be mute. 

There 's a maiden, and her name is . . 

Hist ! was that a rose-leaf fell ? 
See, the rose is listening, Lily, 

And the rose may tell. 

Lily-browed and lily-hearted, 

She is very dear to me ; 
Lovely? yes, if being lovely 

Is — resembling thee. 

Six to half a score of summers 

Make the sweetest of the "teens" — 

Not too young to guess, dear Lily, 
What a lover means. 

Laughing girl, and thoughtful woman, 

I am puzzled how to woo — 
Shall I praise or pique her, Lily ? 
- Tell me what to do. 

[148] 



The Lily Confidante i4g 

"Silly lover, if thy Lily 25 

Like her sister lilies be, 
Thou must woo, if thou wouldst wear her, 

With a simple plea. 

"Love 's the lover's only magic, 

Truth the very subtlest art ; 30 

Love that feigns, and lips that flatter, 

Win no modest heart. 

* ' Like the dewdrop in my bosom. 

Be thy guileless language, youth; 
Falsehood buyeth falsehood only, ss 

Truth must purchase truth. 

"As thou talkest at the fireside, 

With the little children by — 
As thou prayest in the darkness, 

When thy God is nigh — 40 

"With a speech as chaste and gentle. 

And such meanings as become 
Ear of child, or ear of angel, 

Speak, or be thou dumb. 

"Woo her thus, and she shall give thee 45 

Of her heart the sinless whole, 
All the girl within her bosom. 

And her woman's soul." 



1^0 Southern Literary Readings 

STORM AND CALM 

Sweet are these kisses of the South, 
As dropped from woman's rosiest mouth, 
And tenderer are those azure skies 
Than this world's tenderest pair of eyes ! 

But ah ! beneath such influence 
Thought is too often lost in Sense; 
And Action, faltering as we thrill, 
Sinks in the unnerved arms of Will. 

Awake, thou stormy North, and blast 
The subtle spells around us cast ; 
Beat from our limbs these flowery chains 
With the sharp scourges of thy rains ! 

Bring with thee from thy Polar cave* 
All the wild songs of wind and wave. 
Of toppling berg and grinding floe, 
And the dread avalanche of snow ! 

Wrap us in Arctic night and clouds ! 
Yell like a fiend amid the shrouds 
Of some slow-sinking vessel, when 
He hears the shrieks of drowning men ! 

Blend in thy mighty voice whate'er 
Of danger, terror, and despair 
Thou hast encountered in thy sweep 
Across the land and o'er the deep. 

i Pour in our ears all notes of woe, 

That, as these very moments flow. 
Rise like a harsh discordant psalm, 
While we lie here in tropic calm. 



Carolina 151 

Sting our weak hearts with bitter shame, 
Bear us along with thee Hke flame ; 
And prove that even to destroy- 
More God-Hke may be than to toy 
And rust or rot in idle joy ! 



CAROLINA 
I 

The despot treads thy sacred sands, 
Thy pines give shelter to his bands. 
Thy sons stand by with idle hands, 

Carolina ! 
He breathes at ease thy airs of balm. 
He scorns the lances of thy palm ; 
Oh ! who shall break thy craven calm, 

Carolina ! 
Thy ancient fame is growing dim, 
A spot is on thy garment's rim ; 
Give to the winds thy battle h5min, 

Carolina ! 

II 
Call on thy children of the hill, 
Wake swamp and river, coast and rill. 
Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill, 

Carolina ! 
Cite wealth and science, trade and art. 
Touch with thy fire the cautious mart, 
And pour thee through the people's heart, 

Carolina ! 
Till even the coward spurns his fears, 
And all thy fields and fens and meres 
Shall bristle like thy palm with spears, 

Carolina! 



1^2 Southern Literary Readings 

III 
Hold up the glories of thy dead; 
Say how thy elder children bled, 
And point to Eutaw's battle-bed, 

Carolina ! 
Tell how the patriot's soul was tried, 
And what his dauntless breast defied; 
How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died, 

Carolina ! 
Cry! till thy summons, heard at last, 
Shall fall like Marion's bugle-blast 
Re-echoed from the haunted Past, 
Carolina ! 

IV 

I hear a murmur as of waves 

That grope their way through sunless caves. 

Like bodies struggling in their graves, 

Carolina ! 
And now it deepens ; slow and grand 
It swells, as, rolling to the land, 
An ocean broke upon thy strand, 

Carolina! 
Shout ! let it reach the startled Huns ! 
And roar with all thy festal guns ! 
It is the answer of thy sons, 

Carolina ! 

v 

They will not wait to hear thee call ; 
I From Sachem's Head to Sumter's wall 

Resounds the voice of hut and hall, 

Carolina ! 
No ! thou hast not a stain, they say, 
Or none save what the battle-day 



Carolina i^j 

Shall wash in seas of blood away, 

Carolina ! 
Thy skirts indeed the foe may part, 
Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart, 
They shall not touch thy noble heart, 

Carolina ! 

VI 

Ere thou shalt own the tyrant's thrall 
Ten times ten thousand men must fall ; 
Thy corpse may hearken to his call, 

Carolina ! 
When, by thy bier, in mournful throngs 
The women chant thy mortal wrongs, 
'Twill be their own funereal songs, 

Carolina ! 
From thy dead breast by ruffians trod 
No helpless child shall look to God ; 
All shall be safe beneath thy sod, 
Carolina ! 

VII 

Girt with such wills to do and bear. 
Assured in right, and mailed in prayer, 
Thou wilt not bow thee to despair, 

Carolina ! 
Throw thy bold banner to the breeze ! 
Front with thy ranks the threatening seas 
Like thine own proud armorial trees, 

Carolina ! 
Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns, 
And roar the challenge from thy guns ; 
Then leave the future to thy sons, 

Carolina ! 



1^4 Southern Literary Readings 

ODE 

SUNG ON THE OCCASION OF DECORATING THE GRAVES 
OF THE CONFEDERATE DEAD AT MAGNOLIA CEMETERY, 
CHARLESTON, S. C, 1867. 

I 

Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, 

Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; 
Though yet no marble column craves 

The pilgrim here to pause. 

II 

In seeds of laurel in the earth 
The blossom of your fame is blown, 

And somewhere, waiting for its birth, 
The shaft is in the stone ! 

Ill 
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years 

Which keep'in trust your storied tombs, 
Behold ! your sisters bring their tears. 

And these memorial blooms. 

IV 

Small tributes ! but your shades will smile 
More proudly on these wreaths to-day. 

Than when some cannon-moulded pile 
Shall overlook this bay. 

V 

Stoop, angels, hither from the skies \ 
There is no holier spot of ground 
Than where defeated valor lies, 
» By mourning beauty crowned ! 



JOHN ESTEN COOKE 

John Esten Cooke of Virginia was descended from dis- 
tinguished ancestry on both sides of the house. His 
grandfather, Stephen Cooke, a surgeon in the Continental 
Army during the Revolution, was captured by the British 
and sent as a prisoner to the Bermuda Islands. Here he 
met and married Catherine Esten (pronounced Easten), 
daughter of the governor-general of the island, a dis- 
tinguished member of an old English family. In 1791 
the Cookes left the islands and settled in Alexandria, 
Virginia. John Rogers Cooke, the father of John Esten, 
was educated at Princeton, and became a noted lawyer 
in Virginia at a time when the state was full of great legal 
lights. He married Maria Pendleton, of the well-known 
Pendleton family of Virginia, and lived at various places 
in the state. Near Winchester, in Frederick County, 
John Esten was bom, November 3, 1830. Later the 
family moved to Richmond, where Esten attended 
school. Instead of going to college as did his elder 
brother, Philip Pendleton Cooke, he decided to study law at 
home in order to become an immediate help to his father. 

Although he was admitted to the bar and began the 
practice of his profession in a small way, he never attained 
eminence as a lawyer, for he devoted most of his time 
to literary pursuits, constantly reading all sorts of books, 
and writing all kinds of material for the newspapers and 
magazines of the time. On two separate occasions he 
became for brief periods acting editor of the Southern 
Literary Messenger, during the absence of the regular 
editor, John Reuben Thompson. In 1854 Cooke published 
The Virginia Comedians, his novel dealing with pre-revolu- 
tionary times. He had already written several novels and 
many biographical sketches and reviews, but this was as 
yet his most ambitious production ; by competent critics it 
has been classed among the best works of fiction produced 
in the South before the Civil War. 

[155] 



1^6 Southern Literary Readings 

Cooke enlisted as a private at the beginning of the 
war, was gradually promoted, and finally was raised to 
the rank of major, serving as a staff officer under General 
J. E. B. Stuart. After Stuart's death Cooke was trans- 
ferred to the staff of General Pendleton. During the war 
he saw much hard military service and won for himself an 
enviable reputation for courage and discretion as a soldier 
and an officer. Moreover, he did good service for the 
cause by constantly writing. He kept full notes of all 
that he saw and experienced, writing up his impressions 
of men and events at night by the camp fires, or in the 
saddle by day, and sometimes in the very roar of the 
battle field itself. Later, in his romances dealing with 
the Civil War period, he skillfully turned these notes to 
account. For instance, his most famous book, Surry of 
Eagle' s-N est, is supposed to be the memoirs of an officer 
on General J. E. B. Stuart's staff, and much of Cooke's 
own experience is woven into the romance. 

Of particular interest in connection with the selection 
given in these pages is Cooke's Life of Stonewall Jackson, 
written during the most trying period of the war and 
published in 1863, less than a year after Jackson's death. 
Much of the material in this excellent biography has been 
used by later writers on Jackson, and Cooke's work is still 
quoted as an authority. The account of Jackson's death 
in Surry of EagWs-Nest is in the main the same as that 
found in the Life of Jackson. 

Cooke fought on with the Army of Virginia until the 
final surrender at Appomattox, and then, returning to his 
brother Philip's home in the Shenandoah Valley, he began 
to pour forth, in an ever-increasing stream, volume after 
volume of war story, revolutionary romance, biography, 
and history. In 1866 appeared Surry of Eagle' s-Nest, 
which at once became popular and has steadily held its 
place in the public esteem, being still one of the most 
widely read romances dealing with the Civil War. After 
1867, in which year Cooke married Miss Mary Page and 
settled in Clark County, he lived quietly and peacefully 
at his home "The Briars," supporting his family almost 
entirely by his pen. Some of his most famous books 
written after the war are Fairfax, Mohun^ Hilt to Hilt,, 



John Esten Cooke 157 

Wearing the Gray, Lee and his Lieutenants, Virginia: a 
History of Her People, My Lady Pokahontas. In all, he 
produced more than thirty volumes, besides a vast amount 
of ephemeral matter which has never been collected in 
book form. 

There is no more admirable representative of the fine old 
Virginia type of character than John Esten Cooke. His 
life was in every way above reproach, and his devotion 
to the ideals and history of the Old Dominion has rarely, 
if ever, been surpassed. Whether or not he aspired to 
do for Virginia what Simms had done for South Carolina 
or Hayne had done for Georgia, he remains the most 
truly representative Virginia writer of the Civil War and 
Reconstruction periods. 

The faults of his writings are a straining after romantic 
effects, an over-sentimentality, a lack of restraint and 
finish, and a failure to coordinate and properly proportion 
the larger masses of his material. He recognized his own 
faults, and in his later years said of one of his earlier produc- 
tions: ''Crude art must be everywhere seen in it — the 
hurry of youth, the hot pulse, the absence of repose, more 
than all, of that nice finish which is the cameo-work of 
literature, and is so agreeable. The writer can only urge 
in reply to this criticism, which is perfectly just, that, 
unable to attain either this nice finish or repose, he was 
forced to depend upon drama. But after all that is some- 
thing. It is only another word for the play of the pas- 
sions of the human heart ; and to paint these was the end 
of the art of Shakspere." 

(The most recent and most satisfactory essay on John Esten 
Cooke is that by J. L. Armstrong in Library of Southern Literature, 
Vol. VIII.) 



THE DEATH OF STONEWALL JACKSON 

Here my memoirs might terminate — for the present, 
if not forever. All the personages disappear, lost in the 
bloody gulf, or have reached that crisis in their lives when 
we can leave them. 

5 But one scene remains to wind up the tragedy — another 
figure is about to fall, as the mighty pine falls in the depths 
of the forest, making the woods resound as it crashes to 
the earth. The hours drew onward now when the form of 
him to whom all the South looked in her day of peril was to 

10 disappear — when the eagle eye was to flash no more, the 
voice to be hushed — when the hero of a hundred battles 
was to leave the great arena of his fame, and pass away 
amid the wailing of a nation. 

Come with me, reader, and we will look upon this 

15 ''last scene of all." Then the curtain falls. 

At daylight . . . Jackson put his column in motion . . . 
At the Catherine Furnace he was observed and attacked 
by the advance force of the enemy, but, pushing on 
without stopping — his flank covered by the cavalry — 

20 he reached the Brock road, and, finally, the Orange 
plank-road. 

Here I joined him at the moment when General Fitz 
Lee, who commanded the cavalry under Stuart, informed 
him that, by ascending a neighboring eminence, he could 

25 obtain a good view of the enemy's works. Jackson imme- 
diately rode to the point thus indicated, in company with 
Generals Fitz Lee and Stuart; and the works of Hooker 
were plainly descried over the tops of the trees. 

The whole was seen at a glance, and, to attack to 

'[158] 



The Death 0} Stonewall Jackson i^g 

advantage, it was obviously necessary to move further 30 
still around the enemy's flank. 

"Tell my column to cross that road," Jackson said to 
one of his aides; and the troops moved on steadily until 
they reached the Old Turnpike, at a point between the 
Wilderness Tavern and Chancellorsville. 35 

Here instant preparations were made for attack. The 
force which Jackson had consisted of Rodes's, Colston's, 
and A. P. Hill's divisions — in all, somewhat less than 
twenty-two thousand men — and line of battle was imme- 
diately formed for an advance upon the enemy. Rodes4o 
moved in front, Colston followed within two hundred 
yards, and Hill marched in column, with the artillery as 
a reserve. 

Jackson gave the order to advance at about six in the 
evening, and, as the sinking sun began to throw its long 45 
shadows over the Wilderness, the long line of bayonets was 
seen in motion. Struggling on through the dense thickets 
on either side of the turnpike, the troops reached the 
open ground near Melzi Chancellor's — and there, before 
them, was the long line of the enemy's works. 50 

Jackson rode in front, and, as soon as his lines were 
formed for the attack, ordered the works to be stormed 
with the bayonet. 

At the word, Rodes rushed forward — the men cheering 
wildly — and, in a few moments, they had swept over the 55 
Federal earthworks, driving the Eleventh Corps in wild 
confusion before them. The woods swarmed with panic- 
stricken infantry, in utter confusion; artillery galloped off, 
and was overturned in ditches, or by striking against the 
trees. At one blow the entire army of Hooker, as events eo 
subsequently proved, was entirely demoralized. 

Jackson pressed straight on upon the track of the flying 
enemy; and I soon discovered that he was straining every 



i6o Southern Literary Readings 

nerve to extend his left, and so cut off their retreat to the 

65 Rappahannock. Unavoidable delays, however, ensued. 
The lines of Rodes and Colston had been mingled in 
inextricable confusion in the charge; officers could not 
find their commands: before advancing further, it was 
absolutely necessary to halt and re-form the line of battle. 

70 Rodes and Colston were, accordingly, ordered to stop 
their advance, re-form their divisions, and give way to 
Hill, who was directed to take the front with his fresh 
division, not yet engaged. 

Before these orders could be carried out, it was nearly 

75 nine o'clock at night, and the weird scene was only lit up 
by the struggling beams of a pallid moon. On all sides 
the scattered troops were seen gathering around their 
colors again, and forming a new line of battle — and soon 
A. P. Hill was heard steadily advancing to take his place 

80 in front, for the decisive attack on Chancellorsville, about 
a mile distant. 

Such was the condition of things, when General Jackson, 
accompanied by his staff and escort, rode in advance of 
his line down the road toward Chancellorsville, listening, 

85 at every step, for some indications of a movement in the 
Federal camps. 

When nearly opposite an old wooden house, in the 
thicket by the roadside, he checked his horse to listen; and 
the whole cortege. General, staff, and couriers, remained 

90 for some moments silent and motionless, gazing toward 
the enemy. 

From the narrative of what followed I shrink with a sort 
of dread, and a throbbing heart. Again that sombre and 
lugubrious Wilderness rises up before me, lit by the pallid 

95 moon; again the sad whippoorwill's cry; again I see the 
great soldier, motionless upon his horse — and then I hear 
the fatal roar of the guns which laid him low ! 



The Death of Stonewall Jackson i6i 

Jackson had halted thus, and remained motionless in 
the middle of the road, listening intently, when, suddenly, 
for what reason has never yet been discovered, one of his loo 
brigades in rear, and on the right of the turnpike, opened 
a heavy fire upon the party. 

Did they take us for Federal cavalry, or were they fir- 
ing at random, under the excitement of the moment? I 
know not, and it is probable that the truth will never be 105 
known. But the fire had terrible results. Some of the 
staff were wounded; others threw themselves from their 
horses, who were running from the fire toward the Federal 
lines, not two hundred yards distant ; and Captain Boswell, 
engineer upon the General's staff, was killed, and his body no 
dragged by his maddened horse to Chancellorsville. 

As the bullets whistled around him, Jackson wheeled 
his horse to the left, and galloped into the thicket. Then 
came the fatal moment. The troops behind him, on the 
left of the road, imagined that the Federal cavalry was 115 
charging; and, kneeling on the right knee, with bayonets 
fixed, poured a volley upon the General, at the distance 
of thirty yards. 

Two balls passed through his left arm, shattering the 
bone, and a third through his right hand, breaking the 120 
fingers. 

Mad with terror, his horse wheeled round and ran off; 
and, passing under a low bough, extending horizontally 
from a tree, Jackson was struck in the forehead, his cap 
torn from his head, and his form hurled back almost out 125 
of the saddle. He rose erect again, however; grasped the 
bridle with his bleeding fingers; and, regaining control 
of his horse, turned again into the high road, near the 
spot which he had left. 

The fire had ceased as suddenly as it began, and not 130 
a human being was seen. Of the entire staff and escort, 
11 



l62 Southern Literary Readings 

no one remained but myself and a single courier. The 
rest had disappeared before the terrible fire, as leaves 
disappear before the blasts of winter. 

135 Jackson reeled in the saddle, but no sound had issued 
from his lips during the whole scene. He now declared, 
in faint tones, that his arm was broken; and, leaning for- 
ward, he fell into my arms. 

More bitter distress than I experienced at that moment 

140 1 would not wish to have inflicted upon my deadliest 
enemy. Nor was my anxiety less terrible. The lines of 
the enemy were in sight of the spot where the General 
lay. At any moment they might advance, when he would 
fall into their hands. 

145 No time was to be lost. I sent the courier for an 
ambulance; and, taking off the General's military satchel 
and his arms, endeavored to stanch his wound. While I 
was thus engaged, I experienced a singular consciousness 
that othei: eyes than the General's were intently watching 

150 me. I can only thus describe the instinctive feeling 
which induced me to look up — and there, in the edge of 
the thicket, within ten paces of me, was a dark figure, 
motionless, on horseback, gazing at me. 
' ' Who is that ? " I called out. 

155 But no reply greeted my address. 

''Is that one of the couriers? If so, ride up there, and 
see what troops those are that fired upon us." 

At the order, the dark figure moved ; went slowly in the 
direction which I indicated; and never again appeared. 

160 Who was that silent horseman? I know not, nor ever 
expect to know. 

I had turned again to the General, and was trying to 
remove his bloody gauntlets, when the sound of hoofs was 
heard in the direction of our own lines, and soon General 

165 A. P. Hill appeared, with his staff. Hastily dismounting. 



The Death of Stonewall Jackson ■ 163 

he expressed the deepest regret at the fatal occurrence, 
and urged the General to permit himself to be borne to 
the rear, as the enemy might, at any moment, advance. 

As he was speaking, an instant proof was afforded of the 
justice of his fears. 170 

"Halt! surrender! Fire on them, if they do not sur- 
render!" came from one of the staff in advance of the 
spot, toward the enemy; and, in a moment, the speaker 
appeared, with two Federal skirmishers, who expressed 
great astonishment at finding themselves so near the 175 
Southern lines. 

It was now obvious that no time was to be lost in bearing 
off the General, and Lieutenant Morrison, one of the staff, 
exclaimed: ''Let us take the General up in our arms and 
carry him off!" iso 

"No; if you can help me up, I can walk!" replied 
Jackson, faintly. 

And, as General Hill, who had drawn his pistol and 
mounted his horse, hastened back to throw forward his 
line, Jackson rose to his feet. iss 

He had no sooner done so, than a roar like thunder 
came from the direction of Chancellors ville, and a hurricane 
of shell swept the road in which we stood. A fragment 
struck the horse of Captain Leigh, of Hill's staff, who 
had just ridden up with a litter, and his" rider had only 190 
time to leap to the ground when the animal fell. This 
brave officer did not think of himself, however ; he hastened 
to Jackson, who leaned his arm upon his shoulder; and, 
slowly dragging himself along, his arm bleeding profusely, 
the General approached his own lines again. 195 

Hill was now in motion, steadily advancing to the attack, 
and the troops evidently suspected, from the number and 
rank of the wounded man's escort, that he was a superior 
officer. 



164 Southern Literary Readings 

200 "Who is that? " was the incessant question of the men; 
but the reply came as regularly, "Oh, only a friend of ours." 
"When asked, just .say it is a Confederate officer!" 
murmured Jackson. 

And he continued to walk on, leaning heavily upon the 

205 shoulders of the two officers at his side. The horses were 

led along between him and the passing troops; but many 

of the soldiers peered curiously around them, to discover 

who the wounded officer was. 

At last one of them recognized him as he walked, bare- 

210 headed, in the moonlight, and exclaimed, in the most 

piteous tone ever heard : 

"Great God! that is General Jackson!" 
"You are mistaken, my friend," was the reply of one 
of the staff; and, as he heard this denial of Jackson's 
215 identity, the man looked utterly bewildered. He said 
nothing more, however, and moved on, shaking his head. 
Jackson then continued to drag his feet along — slowly and 
with obvious pain. 

At last his strength "was exhausted, and it was plain 

220 that he could go no further. The litter, brought by 

Captain Leigh, was put in requisition, the General laid 

upon it, and four of the party grasped the handles and 

bore it on toward the rear. 

Such, up to this moment, had been the harrowing scenes 
225 of the great soldier's suffering; but the gloomiest and most 
tragic portion was yet to come. 

No sooner had the litter begun to move, than the 
enemy, who had, doubtless, divined the advance of Hill, 
opened a frightful fire of artillery from the epaulments near 
230 Chancellors ville. The turnpike was swept by a veritable 
hurricane of shell and canister — men and horses fell before 
it, mowed down like grass — and, where a moment before 
had been seen the serried ranks of Hill, the eye could now 



The Death of Stonewall Jackson 165 

discern only riderless horses, men writhing in the death 
agony, and others seeking the shelter of the woods. 235 

That sudden and furious fire did not spare the small 
party who were bearing off the great soldier. Two of the 
litter-bearers were shot, and dropped the handles to the 
ground. Of all present, none remained but myself and 
another; and we were forced to lower the litter to the 240 
earth, and lie beside it, to escape the terrific storm of 
canister tearing over us. It struck millions of sparks 
from the flint of the turnpike, and every instant I expected 
would be our last. 

The General attempted, during the hottest portion of 245 
the fire, to rise from the litter ; but this he was prevented 
from doing; and the hurricane soon ceased. He then 
rose erect, and, leaning upon our shoulders, while another 
officer brought on the litter, made his way into the woods, 
where the troops were lying down in line of battle. 250 

As we passed on in the moonlight, I recognized General 
Pender, in front of his brigade, and he also recognized me. 

"Who is wounded, Colonel?" he said. 

"Only a Confederate officer, General." 

But, all at once, he caught a sight of General Jackson's 255 
face. 

"Oh! General!" he exclaimed, "I am truly sorry to see 
you are wounded. The lines here are so much broken 
that I fear we will be obliged to fall back ! ' ' 

The words brought a fiery flush to the pale face of 260 
Jackson. Raising his drooping head, his eyes flashed, 
and he replied : 

"You must hold your ground, General Pender! You 
must hold your ground, sir!" 

Pender bowed, and Jackson continued his slow progress 265 
to the rear. 

He had given his last order on the field. 



i66 Southern Literary Readings 

Fifty steps further, his head sank upon his bosom, his 
shoulders bent forward, and he seemed about to fall from 

270 exhaustion. In a tone so faint that it sounded like a 
murmur, he asked to be permitted to lie down and die. 

Instead of yielding to this prayer, we placed him 
again upon the litter — some bearers were procured — 
and, amid bursting shell, which filled the moonlit sky 

275 above with their dazzling coruscations, we slowly bore 
the wounded General on, through the tangled thicket, 
toward the rear. 

So dense was the undergrowth that we penetrated it with 
difficulty, and the vines which obstructed the way more 

280 than once made the litter-bearers stumble. From this 
proceeded a most distressing accident. One of the men, 
at last, caught his foot in a grape-vine, and fell — and, 
in his fall, he dropped the handle of the litter. It de- 
scended heavily, and then, as the General's shattered arm 

285 struck the ground, and the blood gushed forth, he uttered, 
for the first time, a low, piteous groan. 

We raised him quickly, and at that moment, -a ray of 
moonlight, glimmering through the deep foliage overhead, 
fell upon his pale face and his bleeding form. His eyes 

290 were closed, his bosom heaved — I thought that he was 
about to die. 

What a death for the man of Manassas and Port Repub- 
lic! What an end to a career so wonderful! Here, lost 
in the tangled and lugubrious depths of this weird Wilder- 

295 ness, with the wan moon gliding like a ghost through the 
clouds — the sad notes of the whippoorwill echoing from 
the thickets — the shell bursting in the air, like showers of 
falling stars — here, alone, without other witnesses than a 
few weeping officers, who held him in their arms, the hero 

300 of a hundred battles, the idol of the Southern people, 
seemed about to utter his last sigh! Never will the 



The Death of Stonewall Jackson 167 

recollection of that scene be obliterated. Again my 
pulses throb, and my heart is oppressed with its bitter 
load of anguish, as I go back in memory to that night 
in the Wilderness. 303 

I could only mutter a few words, asking the General if 
his fall had hurt him — and, at these words, his eyes slowly 
opened. A faint smile came to the pale face, and in a low 
murmur he said : 

** No, my friend ; do not trouble yourself about me ! " 310 

And again the eyes closed, his head fell back. With 
his grand courage and patience, he had suppressed all 
evidences of suffering; and, once more taking up the litter, 
we continued to bear him toward the rear. 

As we approached Melzi Chancellor's, a staff -officer of 315 
General Hill recognized Jackson, and announced that 
Hill had been wounded by the artillery fire which had 
swept down the turnpike. 

Jackson rose on his bleeding right arm, and exclaimed : 

* ' Where is Stuart ! " 320 

As though in answer to that question, we heard the 
quick clatter of hoofs, and all at once the martial figure 
of the great cavalier was seen rapidly approaching. 

"Where is General Jackson?" exclaimed Stuart, in a 
voice which I scarcely recognized. ' 325 

And suddenly he checked his horse right in front of 
the group. His drawn sabre was in his hand — his horse 
foaming. In the moonlight I could see that his face was 
pale, and his eyes full of gloomy emotion. 

For an instant no one moved or spoke — and again 1 330 
return in memory to that scene. Stuart, clad in his ' ' fight- 
ing jacket," with the dark plume floating from his looped- 
up hat, reining in his foaming horse, while the moonlight 
poured on his martial features; and before him, on the 
litter, the bleeding form of Jackson, the face pale, the 335 



i68 Southern Literary Readings 

eyes half -closed, the bosom rising and falling as the life 
of the great soldier ebbed away. 

In an instant Stuart had recognized his friend, and 
had thrown himself from his horse. 
340 * ' You are dangerously wounded ! " 

* ' Yes, ' ' came in a murmur from the pale lips of Jackson, 
as he faintly tried to hold out his hand. Then his cheeks 
suddenly filled with blood, his eyes flashed, and, half rising 
from the litter, he exclaimed : 
345 "Oh! for two hours of daylight! I would then cut off 
the enemy from United States Ford, and they would be 
entirely surrounded ! " 
Stuart bent over him, and their eyes met. 
"Take command of my corps!" murmured Jackson, 
350 falling back; "follow your own judgment — I have implicit 
confidence in you ! " 

Stuart's face flushed hot at this suprem^e recognition of 
his courage and capacity — and I saw a flash dart from the 
fiery blue eyes. 
355 "But you will be ilear, General! You will still send 
me orders!" he exclaimed. 

"You will not need them," murmured Jackson; "to- 
night or early to-morrow you will be in possession of 
Chancellorsville ! Tell m^^ men that I am watching them — 
360 that I am with them in spirit ! " 

"The watchword in the charge shall be, 'Remember 
Jackson!'" 

And, with these fiery words, Stuart grasped the bleeding 

hand; uttered a few words of farewell, and leaped upon 

365 his horse. For a moment his sword gleamed, and his black 

plume floated in the moonlight; then he disappeared, at 

full speed, toward Chancellorsville. 

At ten o'clock next morning he had stormed the intrench- 
ments around Chancellorsville; swept the enemy, with 



I 



The Death of Stonewall Jackson i6g 

the bayonet, back toward the Rappahannock; and as 370 
the troops, mad with victory, rushed through the blazing 
forest, a thousand voices were heard shouting: 
* * Remember Jackson ! ' ' 

Here I terminate my memoirs for the present, if not 
forever. 375 

The great form of Jackson has disappeared from the 
stage. What remains but a cold and gloomy theatre, from 
which the spectators have vanished, where the lights are 
extinguished, and darkness has settled down upon the 
pageant. sso 

Other souls of fire, and valor, and unshrinking nerve 
were left, and their career was glorious; but the finger of 
Fate seemed to mark out, with its bloody point, the name 
of *' Chancellors ville," and the iron lips to unclose and 
mutter: "Thus far, no further!" With the career of 385 
this man of destiny had. waned the strength of the South 
— when he fell, the end was in sight. Thenceforward as 
good fighting as the world ever saw seemed useless, and 
to attain no result. Even the soldiership of Lee — such 
soldiership as renders famous forever a race and an 390 
epoch — could achieve nothing. From the day of Chan- 
cellorsville, the battle-flag, torn in so many glorious 
encounters, seemed to shine no more in the light of victory. 
It drooped upon its staff, however defiantly at times it rose 
— slowly it descended. It fluttered for a moment amid the 395 
fiery storm of Gettysburg, in the woods of Spottsylvania, 
and on the banks of the Appomattox ; but never again did 
its dazzling folds flaunt proudly in the wind, and burn like 
a beacon light on victorious fields. It was natural that 
the army should connect the declining fortunes of the 400 
great flag which they had fought under with the death of 
him who had rendered it so illustrious. The form of 



ifO Southern Literary Readings 

Jackson had vanished from the scene: that king of battle 
had dropped his sword, and descended into the tomb : from 

405 that moment the star of hope, Hke the hght of victory, 
seemed to sink beneath ebon clouds. The hero had gone 
down in the bloody gulf of battle, and the torrent bore 
us away ! 

In the scenes of this voltmie, the great soldier has 

410 appeared as I saw him. Those of his last hours I did not 
witness, but many narratives upon the subject have been 
printed. Those last moments were as serene as his life 
had been stormy — and there, as everywhere, he was 
victorious. On the field it was his enemies he conquered : 

415 here it was pain and suffering. That faith which over- 
comes all things was in his heart, and among his last 
words were : " It is all right ! ' ' 

In that delirium which immediately precedes death, -he 
gave his orders as on the battle-field, and was distinctly 

420 heard directing A. P. Hill to ''prepare for action!" But 
these clouds soon passed — his eye grew calm again — and, 
murmuring, "Let us cross over the river, and rest under 
the shade of the trees!" he fell back and expired. 

Such was the death of this strange man. To me he seems 

425 so great that all words fail in speaking of him. Not in this 

poor page do I attempt a characterization of this king of 

battle: I speak no further of him — but I loved and shall 

ever love him. 

A body laid in state in the capitol at Richmond, the 

430 coffin wrapped in the pure white folds of the newly- 
adopted Confederate flag; a great procession, moving to 
the strains of the Dead March, behind the hearse, and the 
war-horse of the dead soldier; then the thunder of the guns 
at Lexington ; the coffin borne upon a caisson of his own old 

435 battery, to the quiet grave — that was the last of Jackson. 
Dead, he was immortal! 




From a photograph. 



Courtesy of the poet's son, 
William Hamilton Hayne 



PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 



PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 

Paiil Hamilton Hayne, a grandson of the distinguished 
statesman and orator Robert Young Hayne, was bom in 
Charleston, South Carolina, on New Year's Day, in 1830. 
His father, Lieutenant Paul Hamilton Hayne of the 
United States Navy, died when Paul was a mere infant, 
and the boy was brought up amid the wealth and luxury 
of his grandfather's home. He received careful training 
in the best schools of Charleston, and was graduated from 
Charleston College in 1850. 

Like many young Southerners of good family, Hayne 
prepared himself for the bar, but the call of poetry was 
stronger than that of the law. He became an associate 
editor of the Southern Literary Gazette, and later co-founder 
and editor of RusselVs Magazine, which he made a decided 
success. He published a volume of poems in 1855, and 
three other volimies followed — Sonnets and Other Poems 
(1857), Avolio and Other Poems (i860), Legends and Lyrics 
(1872), and a complete edition of his poems, arranged by 
himself and published with an introductory biographical 
sketch by his friend and fellow poet Margaret J. Preston, 
about four years before his death on July-6, 1886. 

The Civil War came on just in time to interfere seri- 
ously with the development of his genius and the spread 
of his fame. True, he threw himself whole-heartedly into 
the struggle, writing a number of good war poems; but 
his muse was better suited to the home, the winter fire- 
side, and the summer forest retreat than to the battle field, 
the march, the camp. In spite of his delicate constitution 
and frail physique he volunteered his services to the Con- 
federate cause, becoming an aide on Governor Pickens's 
staff. 

Home, library, wealth, all were swept away by the 
war. When peace came, Hayne moved with his devoted 
wife and only son, William Hamilton (now a poet of no 
mean ability) , into the pine barrens of Georgia, and settled 

U71] 



1J2 Southern Literary Readings 

in a little cottage — or, rather, log cabin — near Augusta. 
In this primitive home, which he named "Copse Hill," 
he spent the remainder of his life, striving to build up 
his health, and devoting himself exclusively to literature 
for a livelihood. His poems and prose articles found a 
ready reception in the magazines and periodicals of the 
North as well as in those of the South, but the remunera- 
tion was small and the family was forced to live under 
the severest economy. 

Hayne's lyric genius has been highly praised, but he 
is still little more than a name to many readers North 
and South. He wrote a large amount of poetry of a 
singularly tiniform excellence, but no single poem so far 
superior to the great mass of his work as to make itself 
particularly noteworthy or noticeable. Poets of far less 
literary merit are more generally known, through some 
single popular work, while Hayne, for the very reason of 
his uniform excellence, is neglected. He was not strikingly 
original in his poetry, but he had an individual note, 
and his art was rarely at fault. He deserves a more 
generous and general recognition than he has received. 
His longer narrative poems and his dramatic pieces are 
not without merit, but his best work is undoubtedly in 
the purer lyric and descriptive types. Especially note- 
worthy are his sonnets, of which he wrote considerably 
more than one hundred. Maurice Thompson said: *'As 
a sonneteer, Hayne was strong, ranldng well with the 
best in America"; and again, *'I can pick twenty of 
Hayne's sonnets to equal almost any in the language"; 
and Professor Painter adds, "It is hardly too much to 
claim that Hayne is the prince of American sonneteers." 

Paul Hamilton Hayne lived as he wrote — simply, 
purely, bravely. The latter part of his life was marked 
by struggle and heartache, privation and disease; yet 
he kept up his courage and maintained a calm, sweet 
temper to the end, making of his own life, perhaps, a more 
beautiful poem than any he ever penned. 

(Perhaps the best essays on Hayne are those by Margaret Junkin 
Preston in the latest edition of his poems (1882) and by WilHam 
Hamilton Hayne in Lippincott'' s Magazine for December, 1892.) 



LYRIC OF ACTION 

'Tis the part of a coward to brood 

O'er the past that is withered and dead : 
What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust? 

What though the heart's music be fled? 

Still shine the grand heavens o'erhead, 5 

Whence the voice of an angel thrills clear on the soul, 
"Gird about thee thine armor, press on to the goal!" 

If the faults or the crimes of thy youth 

Are a burden too heavy to bear, 
What hope can rebloom on the desolate waste 10 

Of a jealous and craven dispair? 

Down, down with the fetters of fear! 
In the strength of thy valor and manhood arise. 
With the faith that illumes and the will that defies. 

** Too late! " through God's infinite world, 15 

From His throne to life's nethermost fires, 

" Too late!'' is a phantom that flies at the dawn 
Of the soul that repents and aspires. 
If pure thou hast made thy desires. 

There 's no height the strong wings of immortals may gain 20 

W^hich in striving to reach thou shalt strive for in vain. 

Then, up to the contest with fate, 

Unbound by the past which is dead ! 
What though the heart's roses are ashes and dust? 

What though the heart's music be fled? 25 

Still shine the fair heavens o'erhead; 
And sublime as the seraph who rules in the sun 
Beams the promise of joy when the conflict is won! 

U73] 



174 Southern Literary Readings 

AETHRA 

It is a sweet tradition, with a soul 
Of tenderest pathos ! Hearken, love ! — for all 
The sacred undercurrents of the heart 
Thrill to its cordial music : 

Once, a chief, 
Philantus, king of Sparta, left the stem 
And bleak defiles of his unfruitful land — 
Girt by a band of eager colonists — 
To seek new homes on fair Italian plains. 
Apollo's oracle had darkly spoken: 
''Where'er from cloudless skies a plenteous shower 
Outpours, the Fates decree that ye should pause 
And rear your household deities!'' 

Racked by doubt 
Philantus traversed with his faithful band 
Full many a bounteous realm ; but still defeat 
Darkened his banners, and the strong- walled towns 
His desperate sieges grimly laughed to scorn ! 
Weighed down by anxious thoughts, one sultry eve 
The warrior — his rude helmet cast aside — 
Rested his weary head upon the lap 
Of his fair wife, who loved him tenderly; 
And there he drank a generous draught of sleep. 
She, gazing on his brow all worn with toil 
And his dark locks, which pain had silvered over 
With glistening touches of a frosty rime, , 
Wept on the sudden bitterly; her tears 
Fell on his face, and, wondering, he woke. 
"O blest art thou, my Aethra, my clear sky," 
He cried exultant, "from whose pitying blue 
A heart-rain falls to fertilize my fate : 
Lo ! the deep riddle 's solved — the gods spake truth ! ' 



Sonnets lys. 

So the next night he stormed Tarentum, took 
The enemy's host at vantage, and o'erthrew 
His mightiest captains. Thence with kindly sway 
He ruled those pleasant regions he had won, — 
But dearer even than his rich demesnes 
The love of her whose gentle tears unlocked 
The close-shut mystery of the Oracle ! 



SONNETS 
Great Poets and Small 

Shall I not falter on melodious wing, 

In that my notes are weak and may not rise 

To those world-wide entrancing harmonies, 

Which the great poets to the ages sing? 

Shall my thought's humble heaven no longer ring 

With pleasant lays, because the empyreal height 

Stretches beyond it, lifting to the light 

The anointed pinion of song's radiant king? 

Ah ! a false thought ! the thrush her fitful flight 

Ventures in vernal dawns; a happy note 

Trills from the russet linnet's gentle throat, 

Though far above the eagle soars in might. 

And the glad skylark — an ethereal mote — 

Sings in high realms that mock our straining sight. 

Poets 

Some thunder on the heights of song, their race 
Godlike in power, while others at their feet 
Are breathing measures scarce less strong and sweet 
Than those which peal from out that loftiest place; 
Meantime, just midway on the mount, his face 



jy6 Southern Literary Readings 

Fairer than April heavens, when storms retreat, 
And on their edges rain and sunshine meet, 
Pipes the soft lyrist lays of tender grace; 
But where the slopes of bright Parnassus sweep 
Near to the common ground, a various throng 
Chant lowlier measures — yet each tuneful strain 
(The silvery minor of earth's perfect song) 
Blends with that music of the topmost steep, 
O'er whose vast realm the master minstrels reign ! 



My Study 

This is my wDrld ! within these narrow walls, 
I own a princely service; the hot care 
And tumult of our frenzied life are here 
But as a ghost, and echo; what befalls 

5 In the far mart to me is less than naught , 
I walk the fields of quiet Arcadies, 
And wander by the brink of hoary seas, 
Calmed to the tendance of untroubled thought : 
Or if a livelier himior should enhance 

10 The slow-timed pulse, 'tis not for present strife, 
The sordid zeal with which our age is rife. 
Its mammon conflicts crowned by fraud or chance, 
But gleamings of the lost, heroic life, 
Flashed through the gorgeous vistas of romance. 

To Henry W. Longfellow 

I think earth's noblest, most pathetic sight 
Is some old poet, round whose laurel-crown 
The long gray locks are streaming softly down; — 
Whose evening, touched by prescient shades of night, 
fi Grows tranquillized, in calm, ethereal light: — 



Sonnets 177 

Such, such art thou, O master! worthier grown 

In the fair sunset of thy full renown, — 

Poising, perchance, thy spiritual wings for flight ! 

Ah, heaven! why shoiildst thou from thy place depart? 

God's court is thronged with minstrels, rich with song; 10 

Even now, a new note swells the immaculate choir, — 

But thou, whose strains have filled our lives so long. 

Still from the altar of thy reverent heart 

Let golden dreams ascend, and thoughts of fire ! 

The Mocking-bird amid Yellow Jasmine 

Of all the woodland flowers of earlier spring, 

These golden jasmines, each an air-hung bower, 

Meet for the Queen of Fairies' tiring hour. 

Seem loveliest and most fair in blossoming; 

How yonder mock-bird thrills his fervid wing 5 

And long, lithe throat, where twinkling flower on flower 

Rains the globed dewdrops down, a diamond shower. 

O'er his brown head poised as in act to sing; 

Lo ! the swift sunshine floods the flowery urns, 

Girding their delicate gold with matchless light, 10 

Till the blent life of bough, leaf, blossom, burns ; 

Then, then outbursts the inock-bird clear and loud, 

Half -drunk with perfume, veiled by radiance bright, 

A star of music in a fiery cloud ! 



12 



JAMES RYDER RANDALL 

James Ryder Randall, bom in Baltimore, January i, 
1839, sang himself into fame with a single war lyric — 
Maryland! My Maryland! His mother was his first 
teacher, and he once expressed the wish that all he had 
ever written be dedicated to her memory. He was sent to 
Georgetown College, where he was noted as the youngest 
boy who had ever attended, for he was only eleven years 
old when he entered. 

After leaving Georgetown, he received an appointment 
as professor of English literature in Poydras College, 
Point Coupee, Louisiana, and here in the first year of 
the Civil War he wrote the famous lyric already men- 
tioned. It is said that on April 23,1861, the night after he 
heard the news of the clash of a few days before, between 
the citizens of Baltimore and the soldiers of the Sixth 
Massachusetts Regiment, he could not sleep, but paced 
up and down his room in a restless and perfervid mood. 
He seized a pencil and* wrote the fiery lines of Maryland ! 
My Maryland! The next day he read the verses to his 
literature class and then sent them off to the New Orleans 
Delta, in which they appeared three days later. The 
stanzas were copied widely over the South and were 
received with wild enthusiasm in city and camp through- 
out the Confederacy. The words were first sung to the 
French air of Ma Normandie, but later they were set to 
that famous and beautiful old German tune, Tannenbaum, 
O Tannenbaum. The song has been called the Marseillaise 
of the Confederacy. Randall wrote other patriotic lyrics, 
but none to equal, in fervid diction and patriotic glow, 
Maryland! My Maryland! 

Thoroughly aroused by the Federal invasion of the South, 
Randall enlisted in the Confederate Army. However, 
before the company left for the front he siiffered a severe 
hemorrhage from the lungs and was immediately mustered 
out. Although he partially recovered from his illness, he 

[178] 



James Ryder Randall lyg 

was never a strong or robust man. He tried hard to estab- 
lish himself in newspaper work in Augusta, Georgia, but 
he never succeeded beyond making a bare living. He 
gained some notice as Washington correspondent for the 
Augusta Chronicle, and he was also connected with other 
papers, being the editor in his later years of the Hot Blast 
of Anniston, Alabama; but he fought a losing battle, 
unrecognized and almost forgotten. 

A rift came in the clouds before the end. In 1907 he 
was invited to Baltimore to be guest of honor in the great 
home-coming festivities which were being held throughout 
the state. A plan was put on foot to reward the veteran 
poet who had immortalized his state in song. Before 
these plans were consummated, however, he returned to 
Augusta, Georgia, where he died, January 14, 1908. In 
this year an edition of his poems was published, and the 
volume brought forth generous recognition from critics 
both in the North and in the South. Another and more 
complete volume appeared in 19 10 under the editorship 
of Matthew P. Andrews. 

Randall's right to a recognized place among the minor 
poets of America now seems fully established. He wrote, 
besides the famous war poem already mentioned, an elegy 
on Major John Pelham which deserves to rank with the 
best poems of the kind in our literature. Among his other 
war lyrics worthy of remembrance are There's Life in the 
Old Land Yet, The Lone Sentry, The Battle Cry of the South, 
and At Arlington. Randall also possessed a vein of senti- 
ment and in his youthful years wrote some excellent love 
songs, among which Mary, my Heart, Ma Belle Creole, 
Ha! Ha!, and My Bonny Kate may be mentioned as 
preeminent. Miscellaneous poems and poems of a memo- 
rial or religious nature make up the remainder of Randall's 
poetic work. His most recent biographer says: "He 
gave the best he had to his friends, his Hfe to his home 
and family, to his native state an immortal name, and 
to the English language perhaps the greatest of battle- 
hymns." 

(The best memoir of Randall is that by Matthew P. Andrews, 
prefixed as an introduction to the 19 10 edition of Poems of James 
Ryder Randall.) 



MARYLAND! MY MARYLAND! 

The despot's heel is on thy shore, 

Maryland ! 
His torch is at thy temple door, 

Maryland! 
Avenge the patriotic gore 
That flecked the streets of Baltimore, 
And be the battle queen of yore, 
Maryland! My Maryland! 

Hark to an exiled son's appeal, 

Maryland ! 
My mother State ! to thee I kneel, 

Maryland! 
For life and death, for woe and weal, 
Thy peerless chivalry reveal, 
And gird thy beauteous limbs with steel, 
Maryland! My Maryland! 

Thou wilt not cower in the dust, 

Maryland ! 
Thy beaming sword shall never rust, 

Maryland ! 
Remember Carroll's sacred trust, 
Remember Howard's warlike thrust, — 
And all thy slumberers with the just, 
Maryland! My Maryland! 

Come ! 't is the red dawn of the day, 
Maryland ! 

[i8o] 



Maryland! My Maryland! i8i 

Come with thy panopHed array, 

Maryland ! 
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, 
With Watson's blood at Monterey, 
With fearless Lowe and dashing May, 
Maryland ! My Maryland ! 

Come ! for thy shield is bright and strong, 

Maryland ! 
Come ! for thy dalliance does thee wrong, 

Maryland ! 
Come to thine own heroic throng, 
Stalking with Liberty along. 
And chaunt thy dauntless slogan song, 
Maryland! My Maryland! 

Dear Mother ! biirst the tyrant's chain, 

Maryland!' 
Virginia should not call in vain, 

Maryland! 
She meets her sisters on the plain — 
''Sic semper! " 't is the proud refrain 
That baffles minions back again, 

Maryland ! My Maryland ! 

I see the blush upon thy cheek, 

Maryland! 
For thou wast ever bravely meek, 

Maryland ! 
But lo ! there surges forth a shriek 
From hill to hill, from creek to creek — 
Potomac calls to Chesapeake, 

Maryland ! My Maryland ! 



i82 Southern Literary Readings 

Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, 

Maryland! 
Thou wilt not crook to his control, 

Maryland! 
Better the fire upon thee roll, 
Better the blade, the shot, the bowl, 
Than crucifixion of the soul, 

Maryland! My Maryland! 

I hear the distant thunder-hum, 
Maryland ! 
. The Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum, 
Maryland! 
She is not dead, not deaf, nor dumb — 
Huzza ! she spurns the Northern scum ! 
She breathes! she burns! she'll come! she'll come! 
Maryland! My Maryland! 



tPELHAM 

Just as the Spring came laughing through the strife, 

With all its gorgeous cheer; 
In the bright April of historic life. 

Fell the great cannoneer. 

A wondrous lulling of a hero's breath. 

His bleeding country weeps ; 
Hushed in the alabaster arms of Death, 

Our young Marcellus sleeps. 

Nobler and grander than the Child of Rome, 

Curbing his chariot steeds, 
The knightly scion of a Southern home 

Dazzled the land with deeds. 



Pelham i8j 

Gentlest and bravest in the battle's brunt, 

The Champion of the Truth; 
He won his banner in the very front 

Of our immortal youth. 

A clang of sabres 'mid Virginian snow, 

The fiery pang of shells — 
And there 's a wail of immemorial woe 

In Alabama dells. 

The pennon droops that led the sacred band 

Along the crimson field; 
The meteor blade sinks from the nerveless hand 

Over the spotless shield. 

We gazed and gazed upon that beauteous face, 

While round the lips and eyes, 
Couched in their marble slumber flashed the grace 

Of a divine surprise. 

O mother of a blessed soul on high ! 

Thy tears may soon be shed — 
Think of thy boy with princes of the sky. 

Among the Southern Dead. 

How must he smile on this dull wo*-' beneath 

Favored with swift renown; 
He with the martyr's amaranthine wreath 

Twining the victor's crown! 



MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON 

The chief woman poet of the South — in fact, of America 
— is Margaret Junkin Preston of Virginia. Though born 
in Germantown, Pennsylvania, May 19, 1820, and reared 
and educated in her native state, she belongs to the 
South because of her long residence in Lexington, 
Virginia, because of her marriage to a noted Southern 
teacher and soldier, but chiefly because she espoused 
the cause of the South and wrote her best poems on 
Southern themes and in warm Southern tones. In her 
youth she was a brilliant student and was rapidly becoming 
a profound scholar, when, in her twenty-first year, partial 
blindness slammed, as she said, the door of knowledge in 
her face. The trouble was due to eye strain from close 
study of Greek texts by candlelight night after night. 
Though she suffered greatly with her eyes throughout life, 
she never gave up her literary ambitions. She wrote and 
published anonymously a novel called Silverwood, and was 
continually composing, poems, rimed letters, and literary 
essays of various kinds. 

Her father, Dr. George Junkin, was the founder and for 
many years the president of La Fayette College, Easton, 
Pennsylvania. In 1848 he accepted the presidency of 
Washington College, Lexington, Virginia, now Washington 
and Lee University. Margaret, the eldest daughter, 
familiarly known as "Miss Maggie," was then twenty- 
seven years old; brilliant, kindly, helpful, noble, she was 
the life of her father's home, and the leading spirit in 
its social activities. Major Thomas J. Jackson, afterward 
the great "Stonewall" Jackson, who was then professor 
of mathematics in the Virginia Military Institute, located 
almost within a stone's throw of Washington College, 
was a constant visitor at Dr. Junkin's home. The 
beautiful and saintly Eleanor Junkin became Jackson's 
first wife, and during his brief married life of one year and 
for four years after his wife's death, Jackson lived in 

[184] 



Margaret Junkin Preston i8j 

Dr. Junkin's home. Margaret, whom he called "Sister 
Maggie," was in the young professor's most intimate 
confidence, and she learned to appreciate Jackson long 
before he became famous. No wonder, then, that after 
his death she was well prepared to commemorate his life 
and character in two notable poems, The Shade of the 
Trees and Jackson's Grave. 

In 1857 Margaret Junkin married Colonel J. T. L. 
Preston, professor of Latin in the Virginia Military 
Institute, then a widower with seven children. She 
assumed the great responsibilities of this large house- 
hold in a beautiful spirit, giving her life unstintedly 
to her home duties. For three years she lived in perfect 
happiness with her husband and his children and her own 
two baby boys. Then came the distressful period of the 
Civil War. 

For Margaret Preston this was indeed a trying time. 
Her father was faithful to his section, and when war 
was declared he returned to Pennsylvania. But she had 
given her heart and hand to a Southern soldier, and 
she unhesitatingly and loyally espoused the cause of the 
South. She was without bitterness toward the North, 
but she once said that she was ashamed of her section 
because of the disgraceful conduct of some soldiers who 
depredated her home. Colonel Preston became a member 
of Jackson's staff, and was almost continually away from 
home during the war. Mrs. Preston's journals of this 
period show how her heart was racked with anxiety for 
her husband on one side and for her kinsmen on the 
other. But through it all she showed a brave and beauti- 
ful spirit, confidently trusting that God would bring all 
right in the end. 

During the war Mrs. Preston wrote Beechenhrook: a 
Rhyme of the War, and sent it to her husband at the front. 
He read it to delighted audiences of officers and soldiers, 
and was so impressed with it that he had it printed in 
Richmond. But a fire destroyed almost the entire 
edition, and the book was not circulated until it was repub- 
lished in 1866. After the war she continued her literary 
activities with the help of amanuenses. She wrote 
poetry, stories, reviews, essays, and reminiscences, and kept 



i86 Southern Literary Readings 

up a voluminous correspondence with many literary men 
and women of her day. From time to time she published 
collections of her poems — Old Songs and New, Cartoons, 
For Love's Sake, and Colonial Ballads. 

Elizabeth Preston Allan, stepdaughter and biographer 
of Mrs. Preston, says: ''Margaret Junkin Preston did not 
claim to be a poet. Her standard of what a true poet 
should measure up to was so high that she repudiated, 
almost indignantly, that claim as made in her behalf 
by the lovers and admirers of her writings. She called 
herself a 'singer with a slender trill,' and declared that 
there were those for whom the lark and nightingale soared 
with a song too distant, who yet listened with pleasure to 
her 'quiet cooings in the leafy dark'; for them, she said, 
she sang; but let no one think she aspired to be called 
lark or nightingale. Nevertheless, the claim was made 
for her during her lifetime, and steadily persists, now that 
her voice has been hushed by the Great Silence, that she 
was a true poet, and one of no mean rank. There is, 
indeed, much of her verse which fits her own modest esti- 
mate of her writings; and were she judged by this 'quiet 
cooing,' the name 'poet' might be found too large for her; 
but she coiild leave these level fields, when she willed, 
and rise to heights of imagination, passion, and poetic 
feeling; nor did she lack words that 'breathe and bum' 
in which to give utterance to her inspiration." 

Excepting in the troublous times of the Civil War, Mrs. 
Preston's life was a quiet one; and yet she did a great 
work in the world. She was a devoted mother to her 
own and her stepchildren, and all who knew her in her 
home rise up to call her blessed. She gave her talents 
and her energies to the cause of her adopted section. She 
wrote some of the purest poetry that ever came from the 
brain and heart of a woman. She lived a beautiful 
Christian life, and as Professor James A. Harrison of the 
University of Virginia says, she deserves the threefold 
appellation of woman, poet, saint. 

(The standard work on Mrs. Preston is The Life and Letters of 
Margaret Junkin Preston by her stepdaughter Elizabeth Preston 
Allan.) 



GONE FORWARD 
I 
Yes, "Let the tent be struck": Victorious morning 

Through every crevice flashes in a day 
Magnificent beyond all earth's adorning : 
The night is over; wherefore should he stay? 
And wherefore should our voices choke to say, s 

"The General has gone forward"? 

II 

Life's foughten field not once beheld surrender; 

But with superb endtirance, present, past, 
Our pure Commander, lofty, simple, tender, 

Through good, through ill, held his high ptirpose fast, lo 

Wearing his armor spotless, — till at last, 
Death gave the final, ''Forward." 

Ill 
All hearts grew sudden palsied: Yet what said he 

Thus summoned? — ''Let the tent be struck!'' — For when 
Did call of duty fail to find him ready 15 

Nobly to do his work in sight of men. 
For God's and for his country's sake — and then. 
To watch, wait, or go forward? 

IV 

We will not weep, — we dare not! Such a story 

As his large life writes on the century's years, 20 

Should crowd our bosoms with a flush of glory, 
That manhood's type, supremest that appears 
To-day, he shows the ages. Nay, no tears 
Because he has gone forward ! 

[187] 



i88 Southern Literary Readings 

V 

25 Gone forward? — Whither? — Where the marshall'd legions, 
Christ's well-worn soldiers, from their conflicts cease; — 
Where Faith's true Red-cross knights repose in regions 
Thick-studded with the calm, white tents of peace, — 
Thither, right jo3rful to accept release, 

80 The General has gone forward ! 



THE SHADE OF THE TREES 

What are the thoughts that are stirring his breast ? 

What is the mystical vision he sees? 
— '^Let us pass over the river and rest 
Under the shade oj the trees.'' 

5 Has he grown sick of his toils and his tasks? 
Sighs the worn spirit for respite or ease? 
Is it a moment's cool halt that he asks 
Under the.shade of the trees ? 

Is it the gurgle of waters whose flow 
10 Oft-time has come to him, borne on the breeze, 
Memory listens to, lapsing so low. 

Under the shade of the trees? 

Nay — though the rasp of the flesh was so sore, 
Faith that had yearnings far keener than these, 
13 vSaw the soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore, 
Under the shade of th.e trees; — 

Caught the high psalms of ecstatic delight, — 

Heard the harps harping, like soundings of seas,- 
Watched earth's assoiled ones walking in white 
w Under the shade of the trees. 



The Color-bearer i8g 

O, was it strange he should pine for release, 
Touched to the soul with such transports as 
these, — 
He who so needed the balsam of peace, 
Under the shade of the trees ? 

Yea, it was noblest for him — it was best 

(Questioning naught of our Father's decrees) 
There to pass over the river and rest 
Under the shade of the trees ! 



THE COLOR- BEARER 

The shock of battle swept the lines, 

And wounded men and slain 
Lay thick as lie in summer fields 

The ridgy swathes of grain. 

The deadly phalanx belched its fire. 

The raking cannon pealed, 
The lightning-flash of bayonets 

Went glittering round the field. 

On rushed the steady Twenty-fourth 

Against the bristling guns, 
As if their gleams could daunt no more 

Than that October sun's. 

It mattered not though heads went down, 
Though gallant steps were stayed. 

Though rifles dropped from bleeding hands, 
And ghastly gaps were made, — 



tgo Southern Literary Readings 

"Close up!" — was still the stern command, 
And with unwavering tread, 

They held right on, though well they knew 
They tracked their way with dead. 

As fast they pressed with laboring breath, 
Clinched teeth and knitted frown, 

The sharp, arrestive cry rang out, — 
* ' The color-bearer 's down ! " 

Quick to the front sprang, at the word, 

The youngest of the band, 
And caught the flag still tightly held 

Within the fallen hand. 

With cheer he reared it high again, 
I Yet claimed one instant's pause 

To lift the dying head and see 
What comrade's face it was. 



"Forward!" — the captain shouted loud. 
Still "Forward!"— and the men 
i Snatched madly up the shrill command. 

And shrieked it out again. 

But like a statue stood the boy. 

Without a foot's advance. 
Until the captain shook his arm, 
) And roused him from his trance. 

His home had flashed upon his sight, 

The peaceful, sunny spot! 
He did not hear the crashing shells, 

Nor heed the hissing shot. 



The Color-bearer igi 

He saw his mother wring her hands, 

He caught his sister's shriek, — 
And sudden anguish racked his brow, 

And blanched his ruddy cheek. 

The touch dissolved the spell, — he knew, 

He felt the fearful stir; 
He raised his head and softly said, 

"He was my brother, sir!" 

Then grasping firm the crimson flag 

He flung it free and high. 
While patriot-passion stanched his grief, 

And drank its channels dry. 

Between his close-set teeth he spake. 

And hard he drew his breath, — 
"God help me, sir, — I'll bear this flag 

To victory, — or to death!" 

The bellowing batteries thundered on, 

The sulph'rous smoke rose higher. 
And from the columns in their front. 

Poured forth the galling fire. 

But where the bullets thickest fell. 

Where hottest raged the fight, 
The steady colors tossed aloft 

Their blood-red trail of light. 

Firm and indomitable still 

The Twenty-fourth moved on, 
A dauntless remnant only left, — 

The staunch three-score were gone ! 



ig2 Southern Literary Readings 

And now once more the shout arose 
Which not the guns could drown, — 

"Ho, boys! — Up with the flag again! 
The color-bearer 's down ! " 

They strove to free his grasp, — but fast 
He clung with desperate will ; 

"The arm that's broken is my left, 
See! I can hold it still!" 

And "Forward! Twenty-fourth!'* rang out 

Above the deafening roar, 
Till, all at once, the colors lowered, 

Sank, and were seen no more. 

And when the stubborn fight was done, 

And from the fast-held field 
The order'd remnant slow retired, 

Too resolute to yield, — 
t 
They found a boy whose face still wore 

A look resolved and grand. 
Who held a riddled flag close clutched 

Within his shatter'd hand. 




ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN 



From a photograph 



ABRAM JOSEPH RYAN 

"These verses (which some friends call by the higher 
title of poems — to which appellation the author objects) 
were written at random — off and on, here, there, any- 
where — just when the mood came, with little of study 
and less of art, and always in a hurry." 

Such are the opening words of Father Ryan's brief 
preface to his volume of poems. He goes on to say that 
he does not expect to be ranked even in the lowest place 
among authors, and yet somehow, he can hardly tell why, 
he has tried to sing. And somehow, we can hardly tell 
why, his simple, unambitious songs have sunk deep into 
the hearts of his people. While some of the critics have 
continued to point out the trivial faults and inartistic 
blemishes of his verse, his poems hold their place in the 
popular regard, The Conquered Banner and The Sword of 
Robert Lee being especial favorites. 

Abram Joseph Ryan — better known, from his priestly 
office, as "Father Ryan" — was born at Norfolk, Virginia, 
August 15, 1839, his parents being Irish immigrants who 
had shortly before landed in America. When he was seven 
or eight years of age his parents moved to St. Louis, 
where he was put into a Roman Catholic school. He 
had a fine mind, and even as a boy he showed the deeply 
religious tendency of his nature. This tendency led him, 
early in his teens, to resolve to enter the priesthood. He 
studied in the Roman Catholic Seminary at Niagara, New 
York, and was consecrated as a priest in 186 1. He im- 
mediately afterward joined the Confederate Army, and 
served, either as chaplain or soldier, throughout the 
war. He appeared to court death in any form, taking 
his place in the front rank in battle, attending the 
wounded and dying amid flying bullets, and serving in" 
prisons during smallpox epidemics. But he was spared 
for twenty years or more, to comfort many a wearier 
heart than his own. 

13 {i93\ 



ig4 Southern Literary Readings 

After the war he moved around from place to place, doing 
priestly service in various Southern cities, among them 
being Nashville and Knoxville, Tennessee; Augusta, 
Georgia; and Mobile, Alabama. He founded and edited 
literary and religious journals, lectured, wrote verse, and 
ministered to the unfortunate. He was finally sent to 
St. Mary's Church, in Mobile, and there he remained for 
ten years. During the last five years of his life, being 
relieved on account of ill-health from his active priestly 
offices, he devoted himself to literary pursuits, editing 
his poems, and preparing a Life of Christ, which he left 
unfinished at his death. He died at the Franciscan 
monastery at Louisville, Kentucky, April 22, 1886. 

(No full biography of Father Ryan has been written, and many 
facts of his life remain obscure. Perhaps the best memoir is that 
by John Moran in the Household Edition of Father Ryan's Poems.) 



THE CONQUERED BANNER 

Furl that Banner, for 'tis weary; 
Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; 

Furl it, fold it, it is best ; 
For there 's not a man to wave it, 
And there 's not a sword to save it, 
And there 's not one left to lave it 
In the blood which heroes gave it; 
And its foes now scorn and brave it ; 

Furl it, hide it — let it rest! 

Take that Banner down! 'tis tattered; 
Broken is its staff and shattered; 
And the valiant hosts are scattered 

Over whom it floated high. 
Oh! 'tis hard for us to fold it; 
Hard to think there 's none to hold it; 



The Conquered Banner ig^ 

Hard that those who once unrolled it 
Now must furl it with a sigh. 



Furl that Banner! furl it sadly! 
Once ten thousands hailed it gladly, 
And ten thousands wildly, madly. 

Swore it should forever wave ; 
Swore that foeman's sword should never 
Hearts like theirs entwined dissever, 
Till that flag should float forever 

O'er their freedom or their grave! 

Furl it ! for the hands that grasped it, 
And the hearts that fondly clasped it, 

Cold and dead are lying low; 
And that Banner — it is trailing! 
While around it sounds the wailing 

Of its people in their woe. 

For, though conquered, they adore it ! 
Love the cold, dead hands that bore it ! 
Weep for those who fell before it ! 
Pardon those who trailed and tore it ! 
But, oh! wildly they deplore it. 
Now who furl and- fold it so. 

Furl that Banner! True, 'tis gory, 
Yet 'tis wreathed around with glory, 
And 't will live in song and story, 

Though its folds are vc\ the dust : 
For its fame on brightest pages, 
Penned by poets and by sages, 



i()6 Southern Literary Readings 

Shall go sounding down the ages — 
Furl its folds though now we must. 

Furl that Banner, softly, slowly ! 
Treat it gently — it is holy — 

For it droops above the dead. 
Touch it not — unfold it never, 
Let it droop there, furled forever, 

For its people's hopes are dead ! 



THE SWORD OF ROBERT LEE 

Forth from its scabbard, pure and bright, 

Flashed the sword of Lee ! 
Far in the front of the deadly fight. 
High o'er the brave in the cause of Right, 
Its stainless sheen, like a beacon light. 

Led us to "Victory ! 

Out of its scabbard, where, full long. 

It slumbered peacefully, 
Roused from its rest by the battle's song. 
Shielding the feeble, smiting the strong, 
Guarding the right, avenging the wrong, 

Gleamed the sword of Lee ! 

Forth from its scabbard, high in air 

Beneath Virginia's sky — 
And they who saw it gleaming there, 
And knew who bore it, knelt to swear 
That where that sword led they would dare 

To follow — and to die! 



The Sword of Robert Lee igy 

Out of its scabbard ! Never hand 

Waved sword from stain as free, 
Nor purer sword led braver band, 
Nor braver bled for a brighter land, 
Nor brighter land had a cause so grand, 
Nor cause a chief like Lee ! 

Forth from its scabbard ! How we prayed 

That sword might victor be ; 
And when ovlt triumph was delayed. 
And many a heart grew sore afraid, 
We still hoped on while gleamed the blade 

Of noble Robert Lee ! 

Forth from its scabbard all in vain 

Bright flashed the sword of Lee ; 
'T is shrouded now in its sheath again, 
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain, 
Defeated, yet without a stain, 

Proudly and peacefully ! 



LUCIUS QUINTUS CINCINNATUS LAMAR 

Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar was bom in Putnam 
County, Georgia, September 17, 1825. He was of a 
notable Georgia family, his father, whose full name 
he bore, being a judge in the Georgia courts and his 
uncle, Mirabeau B. Lamar, a poet, soldier, and states- 
man famous in the history of the Republic of Texas. 
As a boy, Lucius did not show any marked indication of 
his future greatness. He was a quiet, thoughtful, pure- 
minded, and faithful lad, but not at all brilliant in his 
school work. He was of frail physique, and the man- 
ual labor which was a part of the regular work of the 
school he attended near Covington did much toward 
developing him and hardening his constitution. He 
rarely took part in the sports of the other boys, but 
sought retirement and spent much time in solitary musing. 
He was not especially good in his lessons, and his teachers 
and companions interpreted his absent-mindedness as an 
evidence of dullness; but there was in this sober, thought- 
ful boy the making of a remarkable man. 

When he was old enough to enter college, he was sent 
to Emory College, Oxford, Georgia. Here he was gradu- 
ated in 1845. He had in his early school life shown 
a predilection for oratory and debate, and when he 
entered college he at once took rank among the best 
debaters there, always winning a speaker's place for 
the formal public meetings of the debating society to 
which he belonged. 

After his graduation he took up the study of law under 
Judge A. H. Chappell of Macon, Georgia, and on his 
admission to the bar was invited to become the law part- 
ner of his preceptor. In the year that he was admitted 
to the bar, Mr. Lamar married Miss Virginia Longstreet, 
the daughter of Judge A. B. Longstreet, author of Georgia 
Scenes. Two years later, when Judge Longstreet was 
called to the presidency of the University of Mississippi, 

[198] 




From a photograph 
LUCIUS QUINTUS CINCTNNATUS LAMAR 



Lucius Quintus Cincinnatus Lamar igg 

Mr. Lamar removed to Oxford, Mississippi, to practice 
law. He became for a time an adjunct professor of 
mathematics in the university, but he did not give up 
his law practice. It was here that he began his career 
as a political speaker, in his debate with Senator Foote 
of Mississippi. The States Rights party had no champion ; 
Mr. Lamar was asked to meet the distinguished senator, 
and the result was a triumph for the young orator. 

Then the state of Georgia lured her son back for a 
time. In 1852 he went to Carrington and formed a law 
partnership with his old college friend Robert G. Harper. 
In 1853 he was elected to the Georgia Legislature. In 
1855 he returned to Mississippi and purchased a planta- 
tion which he called "Solitude." Here on his broad acres 
with his slaves about him, he lived the secluded life of 
a Southern planter. But he was not long to remain 
in the retirement of ''Solitude," for in 1857 he was sent 
by the people of his state to represent them in Congress. 

Mr. Lamar made a strong impression as a ready debater, 
but he had hardly begun to make his influence felt in 
Congress when the question of secession became acute in 
the Southern States, and he resigned and retired to Oxford, 
Mississippi, to become professor of ethics and metaphysics 
in the university. But the classroom was not the place 
for a man of his gifts in those stirring times. He joined 
the Confederate Army in the first year of the struggle, 
and speedily rose to the rank of lieutenant-colonel. In 
the later years of the war^ Colonel Lamar went abroad on 
the prospect of appointment to a diplomatic post, but 
some hitch occurred and his nomination as ambassador 
to Russia was not confirmed by the Confederate Govern- 
ment. On his return he did not go into the field again, 
but served his country in a judicial capacity during 
the remainder of the war. 

When peace was declared. Colonel Lamar resumed his 
duties as professor of ethics and metaphysics in the State 
University at Oxford. Some years later he was made 
professor of law. In 1873 he was again called into politics 
and sent to Congress. He had served hardly a year when 
he was given the opportunity to make a great speech of 
reconciHation, being asked to second the resolution for 



200 Southern Literary Readings 

the suspension of public business out of respect to the 
memory of Senator Charles Sumner. An account of this 
speech, its reception, and its influence is given in the notes. 

It will be impossible here to follow, except in barest out- 
line, the career of Justice Lamar from this point to the end 
of his life. In 1877 he became Senator from Mississippi, 
and in 1885 he was appointed Secretary of the Interior 
by President Cleveland. In 1887 he was nominated, and 
in 1888 confirmed, justice of the Supreme Court of the 
United States. He filled all these offices with credit to 
himself and his people, and his fame continued to grow 
brighter and brighter, to the close of his life. He died 
January 23, 1893, ^^^ was buried at Macon, Georgia. 
It is not as a writer that Justice Lamar is chiefly remem- 
bered; but his speeches approach pure literature in their 
elegance and finish of structure and style. There is, 
perhaps, no better example of the eulogy to be found in 
the body of our literature than Lamar's heart-moving 
speech on Charles Sumner. 

(Dr. Edward Mayes, formerly Chancellor of the University of 
Mississippi, is the author of a valuable volume of over eight hundred 
pages on the Life, Times, and Speeches oj L. Q. C. Lamar.) 



EULOGY ON CHARLES SUMNER 

Mr. Speaker: In rising to second the resolutions just 
offered, I desire to add a few remarks which have occurred 
to me as appropriate to the occasion. I beheve that they 
express a sentiment which pervades the hearts of all the 
people whose Representatives are here assembled. Strange s 
as, in looking back upon the past, the assertion may seem, 
impossible as it would have been ten years ago to make it, 
it is not the less true that to-day Mississippi regrets the 
death of Charles Sumner, and sincerely unites in pay- 
ing honor to his memory. Not because of the splendor of lo 
his intellect, though in him was extinguished one of the 
brightest of the lights which have illustrated the councils 
of the Government for nearly a quarter of a century; not 
because of the high culture, the elegant scholarship, and 
the varied learning which revealed themselves so clearly 15 
in all his public efforts as to justify the application to him 
of Johnson's felicitous expression, "He touched nothing 
which he did not adorn"; not this, though these are 
qualities by no means, it is to be feared, so common in 
public places as to make their disappearance, in even a 20 
single instance, a matter of indifference; but because of 
those peculiar and strongly marked moral traits of his 
character which gave the coloring to the whole tenor of his 
singularly dramatic public career; traits which made him 
for a long period to a large portion of his countrymen the 25 
object of as deep and passionate a hostility as to another 
he was one of enthusiastic admiration, and which are not 
the less the cause that now unites all these parties, ever 
so widely differing, in a common sorrow to-day over his 
lifeless remains. 30 

[201] 



202 Southern Literary Readings 

It is of these high moral qualities which I wish to speak ; 
for these have been the traits which in after years, as I 
have considered the successive acts and utterances of this 
remarkable man, fastened most strongly my attention, 

35 and impressed themselves most forcibly upon my imagina- 
tion, my sensibilities, my heart. I leave to others to speak 
of his intellectual superiority, of those rare gifts with which 
nature had so lavishly endowed him, and of the power to 
use them which he had acquired by education. I say 

40 nothing of his vast and varied stores of historical knowl- 
edge, or of the wide extent of his reading in the elegant 
literature of ancient and modern times, or of his wonderful 
power of retaining what he had read, or of his readiness 
in drawing upon these fertile resources to illustrate his own 

45 arguments. I say nothing of his eloquence as an orator, 
of his skill as a logician, or of his powers of fascination in 
the unrestrained freedom of the social circle, which last 
it was my misfortune not to have experienced. These, 
indeed, were the qualities which gave him eminence not 

50 only in our country bi>t throughout the world; and which 
have made the name of Charles Sumner an integral part 
of our nation's glory. They were the qualities which gave 
to those moral traits of which I have spoken the power 
to impress themselves upon the history of the age and of 

55 civilization itself; and without which those traits, however 
intensely developed, would have exerted no influence 
beyond the personal circle immediately surrounding their 
possessor. More eloquent tongues than mine will do them 
justice. Let me speak of the characteristics which brought 

60 the illustrious Senator who has just passed away into 
direct and bitter antagonism for years with my own State 
and her sister States of the South. 

Charles Sumner was bom with an instinctive love of 
freedom, and was educated from his earliest infancy to the 



Eulogy on Charles Sumner 20j 

belief that freedom is the natural and indefeasible right of 65 
every intelligent being having the outward form of man. 
In him in fact this creed seems to have been something 
more than a doctrine imbibed from teachers, or a result 
of education. To him it was a grand intuitive truth 
inscribed in blazing letters upon the tablet of his inner 70 
consciousness, to deny which would have been for him to 
deny that he himself existed. And along with this all- 
controlling love of freedom he possessed a moral sensibility 
keenly intense and vivid, a conscientiousness which would 
never permit him to swerve by the breadth of a hair from 75 
what he pictured to himself as the path of duty. Thus 
were combined in him the characteristics which have in 
all ages given to religion her martyrs, and to patriotism her 
self-sacrificing heroes. 

To a man thoroughly permeated and imbued with such so 
a creed, and animated and constantly actuated by such a 
spirit of devotion, to behold a human being or a race of 
human beings restrained of their natiural right to liberty, 
for no crime by him or them committed, was to feel all the 
belligerent instincts of his nature roused to combat. The ss 
fact was to him a wrong which no logic could justify. It 
mattered not how humble in the scale of rational existence 
the subject of this restraint might be, how dark his skin, 
or how dense his ignorance. Behind all that lay for him 
the great principle that liberty is the birthright of all 90 
humanity, and that every individual of every race who has 
a soul to save is entitled to the freedom which may enable 
him to work out his salvation. It mattered not that the 
slave might be contented with his lot ; that his actual con- 
dition might be immeasurably more desirable than that 95 
from which it had transplanted him ; that it gave him physi- 
cal comfort, mental and moral elevation, and religious 
culture not possessed by his race in any other condition ; 



204 Southern Literary Readings 

that his bonds had not been placed upon his hands by 

100 the Hving generation; that the mixed social system of 
which he formed an element had been regarded by the 
fathers of the Republic, and by the ablest statesmen who 
had risen up after them, as too complicated to be broken 
up without danger to society, itself, or even to civilization ; 

105 or finally, that the actual state of things had been recog- 
nized and explicitly sanctioned by the very organic law 
of the Republic. Weighty as these considerations might 
be, formidable as were the difficulties in the way of the 
practical enforcement of his great principle, he held none 

no the less that it must sooner or later be enforced, though 
institutions and constitutions should have to give way 
alike before it. But here let me do this great man the 
justice which amid the excitement of the struggle between 
the sections, now past, I may have been disposed to 

115 deny him. In this fiery zeal and this earnest warfare 
against the wrong, as he viewed it, there entered no 
enduring personal animosity toward the men whose lot it 
was to be born to the System which he denounced. 

It has been the kindness of the sympathy which in these 

120 later years he has. displayed toward the impoverished and 
suffering people of the Southern States that has unveiled 
to me the generous and tender heart which beat beneath 
the bosom of the zealot, and has forced me to yield him the 
tribute of my respect, I might even say of my admiration. 

125 Nor in the manifestation of this has there been anything 
which a proud and sensitive people, smarting under a sense 
of recent discomfiture and present suffering, might not 
frankly accept, or which would give them just cause to 
suspect its sincerity. For though he raised his voice, as 

130 soon as he believed the momentous issues of this great 
military conflict were decided, in behalf of amnesty to the 
vanquished, and though he stood forward ready to welcome 



Eulogy on Charles Sumner 205 

back as brothers and to reestablish in their rights as citizens 
those whose valor had so nearly riven asunder the Union 
which he loved, yet he always insisted that the most ample 135 
protection and the largest safeguards should be thrown 
around the liberties of the newly enfranchised African 
race. Though he knew very well that of his conquered 
fellow-citizens of the South by far the larger portion, even 
those who most heartily acquiesced in and desired the uo 
abolition of slavery, seriously questioned the expediency 
of investing in a single day and without any preliminary 
tutelage so vast a body of inexperienced and uninstructed 
men with the full rights of freemen and voters, he would 
tolerate no half-way measures upon a point to him so vital, us 

Indeed, immediately after the war, while other minds 
were occupying themselves with different theories of recon- 
struction, he did not hesitate to impress most emphati- 
cally upon the administration, not only in public, but in 
the confidence of private intercourse, his uncompromising 150 
resolution to oppose to the last any and every scheme which 
should fail to provide the surest guarantees for the personal 
freedom and political rights of the race which he had un- 
dertaken to protect. Whether his measures to secure this 
result showed him to be a practical statesman or a theo- 155 
retical enthusiast is a question on which any decision we 
may pronounce to-day must await the inevitable revision 
of posterity. The spirit of magnanimity, therefore, which 
breathes in his utterances and manifests itself in all his 
acts affecting the South during the last two years of his leo 
life, was as evidently honest as it was grateful to the feel- 
ings of those toward whom it was displayed. 

It was certainly a gracious act toward the South — though 
unhappily it jarred upon the sensibilities of the people at 
the other extreme of the Union, and estranged from him i65 
the great body of his political friends — to propose to erase 



2o6 Southern Literary Readings 

from the banners of the national army the mementos of 
the bloody internecine struggle, which might be regarded 
as assailing the pride or wounding the sensibilities of the 

170 Southern people. That proposal will never be forgotten 
by that people so long as the name of Charles Sumner lives 
in the memory of man. But while it touched the heart of 
the South and elicited her profound gratitude, her people 
would not have asked of the North such an act of self- 

175 renunciation. 

Conscious that they themselves were animated by devo- 
tion to constitutional liberty, and that the brightest pages 
of history are replete with evidences of the depth and sin- 
cerity of that devotion, they cannot but cherish the recol- 

180 lections of sacrifices endured, the battles fought, and the 
victories won in defense of their hapless cause. And respect- 
ing, as all true and brave men must respect, the martial 
spirit with which the men of the North vindicated the in- 
tegrity of the Union, and their devotion to the principles 

185 of human freedom, they do not ask, they do not wish, the 
North to strike the Aiementos of her heroism and victory 
from either records or monuments or battle flags. They 
would rather that both sections should gather up the glories 
won by each section, not envious, but proud of each other, 

190 and regard them a common heritage of American valor. Let 
us hope that future generations, when they remember the 
deeds of heroism and devotion done on both sides, will 
speak not of Northern prowess and Southern courage, but of 
the heroism, fortitude, and courage of Americans in a war of 

195 ideas — a war in which each section signalized its consecra- 
tion to the principles, as each understood them, of American 
liberty and of the constitution received from their fathers. 
It was my misfortune, perhaps my fault, personally never 
to have known this eminent philanthropist and statesman. 

200 The impulse was often strong upon me to go to him and offer 



Eulogy on Charles Sumner 2oy 

him my hand, and my heart with it, and to express to him 
my thanks for his kind and considerate course toward 
the people with whom I am identified. If I did not yield 
to that impulse, it was because the thought occurred that 
other days were coming in which such a demonstration 205 
might be more opportune and less liable to misconstruc- 
tion. Suddenly, and without premonition, a day has come 
at last to which, for such a purpose, there is no to-morrow. 
My regret is therefore intensified by the thought that I 
failed to speak to him out of the fullness of my heart while 210 
there was yet time. 

How often is it that death thus brings unavailingly back 
to our remembrance opportunities unimproved; in which 
generous overtures, prompted by the heart, remain 
unoff ered ; frank avowals which rose to the lips remain 213 
unspoken; and the injustice and wrong of bitter resent- 
ments remain unrepaired! Charles Sumner in life 
believed that all occasion for strife and distrust between 
the North and South had passed away, and that there 
no longer remained any cause for continued estrangement 220 
between these two sections of our common country. Are 
there not many of us who believe the same thing ? Is not 
that the common sentiment, or if it is not ought it not 
to be, of the great mass of our people North and South ? 
Bound to each other by a common constitution, destined 225 
to live together under a common government, forming 
unitedly but a single member of the great family of nations, 
shall we not now at last endeavor to grow toward each other 
once more in heart, as we are already indissolubly linked to 
each other in fortunes ? Shall we not, over the honored 230 
remains of this great champion of human liberty, this 
feeling sympathizer with human sorrow, this earnest 
pleader for the exercise of human tenderness and charity, 
lay aside the concealments which serve only to perpetuate 



2o8 Southern Literary Readings 

235 misunderstandings and distrust, and frankly confess that 
on both sides we most earnestly desire to be one ; one not 
merely in political organization; one not merely in iden- 
tity of institutions; one not merely in community of lan- 
guage and literature and traditions and country; but 

240 more, and better than all that, one also in feeling and in 
heart ? Am I mistaken in this ? 

Do the concealments of which I speak still cover ani- 
mosities which neither time nor reflection nor the march 
of events has yet sufficed to subdue? I cannot believe it. 

245 Since I have been here I have watched with anxious 
scrutiny your sentiments as expressed not merely in public 
debate, but in the abandon of personal confidence. I 
know well the sentiments of these my Southern brothers, 
whose hearts are so infolded that the feeling of each is the 

250 feeling of all ; and I see on both sides only the seeming of 
a constraint, which each apparently hesitates to dismiss. 
The South — prostrate, exhausted, drained of her lifeblood, 
as well as of her material resources, yet still honorable and 
true — accepts the bitter award of the bloody arbitrament 

255 without reservation, resolutely determined to abide the re- 
sult with chivalrous fidelity; yet, as if struck dumb by the 
magnitude of her reverses, she suffers on in silence. The 
North, exultant in her triumph, and elated by success, 
still cherishes, as we are assured, a heart full of magnani- 

26omous emotions toward her disarmed and discomfited 
antagonist; and yet, as if mastered by some mysterious 
spell, silencing her better impulses, her words and acts are 
the words and acts of suspicion and distrust. 

Would that the spirit of the illustrious dead whom we 

265 lainent to-day could speak from the grave to both parties 
to this deplorable discord in tones which should reach each 
and every heart throughout this broad territory, * * My coun- 
tr3mien! know one another, and you will love one another." 




From a print after a portrait. Courtesy of 
Henry W. Lanier 
SIDNEY LANIER 



SIDNEY LANIER 

In one of his earlier poems, called Life and Song, Sidney 
Lanier says that none of the poets has ever yet so per- 
fectly united the ideal of his minstrelsy with the reality of 
his daily life as to cause the world in wonder to exclaim : 

"His song was only living aloud, 

His work, a singing with his hand!" 

but so near did Lanier himself come to a realization of 
his ideal of "a perfect life in perfect labor writ," that 
the ever growing circle of his admirers is ready to place 
him among that very small number of the gifted sons 
of genius who have nobly conceived and nobly striven 
toward the ideal. Outwardly his life was a hard one. 
The story of his struggle against poverty, disease, and 
adversity often has been told, but not too often, for it 
is as inspiring as it is pathetic. It is the old, old story of 
genius making its way in spite of all obstructions. 

Sidney Lanier was bom at Macon, Georgia, February 3 , 
1842. His father, Robert S. Lanier, was a fairly success- 
ful lawyer who was able to keep his family in that moderate 
degree of comfort which seems conducive to the highest 
happiness in home life. The simple little cottage in which 
Sidney was born was the scene of many a hospitable gather- 
ing of friends and neighbors at impromptu family musical 
entertainments. The three children, Sidney, Clifford, 
and Gertrude, as well as the father and mother, were 
talented in music, and each member of the family con- 
tributed to the home concerts. The Laniers had for many 
generations been distinguished for their attainments in 
various kinds of artistic expression, particularly in paint- 
ing and in music. Sidney early showed his remarkable 
musical talent, becoming a performer on almost all kinds 
of instruments at an early age, learning with that 
ease and rapidity which come only from natural genius. 
He was so fascinated by the music of the violin that 
he would sometimes fall into deep reveries or trances as 

14 [20p] 



210 Southern Literary Readings 

he played. His father, fearing the power of the instru- 
ment over the boy and not wishing him to become a 
professional musician, forbade him to practice on it ; and 
Sidney turned to the instrument which after the violin 
most appealed to him, the flute. On this he produced 
marvelous effects, not only fascinating his schoolmates 
at Oglethorpe College and his fellow soldiers during the 
Civil War, but later earning as a professional the distinc- 
tion of being the greatest flute-player in the world. The 
sweetness, mellowness, and passionate appeal of the tones 
of his flute are said to have held all hearers spellbound. 
He could imitate bird notes with ease, and was even able 
to obtain in his extemporized variations and embellish- 
ments tones imitative of those of the violin. He was 
not merely a virtuoso, but a composer as well. 

But later on we find the conviction taking possession of 
Lanier that he must be a poet. He writes to his father, 
"Gradually I find that my whole soul is merging itself 
into this business of writing." He had begun while at 
college to test his powers as a writer. He was ambitious 
to prepare himself by study in Germany for a college 
professorship, but the war came on, and like many another 
talented young Southerner, he threw himself with great 
enthusiasm into the cause of the Confederacy. He 
entered the army as a private, and rather than accept 
promotion which would separate him from his brother 
Clifford, he remained such. Near the close of the war, 
when both he and Clifford were put in charge of blockade- 
running vessels, Sidney was captured and confined for five 
months in the Federal prison at Point Lookout. During 
the war, Lanier did not neglect his mental development. 
He read all the books he could lay hands on, studied 
German, translated many poems from foreign- languages, 
and played on his beloved flute whenever he had an 
opportunity to do so. He began work on a novel in which 
he made use of some of the experiences and aspirations 
of this period. This immature production was pviblished 
shortly after the war, under the title of Tiger Lilies, 

Returning home from prison just in time to see his 
mother before her death, he sadly set to work to make 
a living for himself and thus to help retrieve the broken 



Sidney Lanier 211 

fortunes of the family. He began teaching as a tutor on a 
plantation near Macon, and then he became a clerk in the 
old Exchange Hotel at Montgomery, Alabama. In 1867 
he accepted the principalship of the village school at Pratt- 
ville, Alabama, and it was while he was occupying this 
position that he married Miss Mary Day of Macon, 
Georgia. Lanier was now writing poetry with a serious 
purpose, and the new and rich emotions incident to his 
love, courtship, and marriage were blossoming forth into 
many beautiful tributes to the object of his lifelong devo- 
tion. No more exquisite love poem is to be found in our 
literature than My Springs. 

After his marriage, Lanier decided to become a lawyer 
in order to be able to provide more adequately for his 
family. He went to Macon to study with the firm of which 
his father was a member, and he was shortly afterward 
admitted to the bar. He did not practice long, however, 
for clients came slowly, and he was inwardly yearning 
for a literary career. He said he had in his heart a 
thousand songs that were oppressing him because they 
remained unsung. His health was already beginning to 
fail, and from this time on he fought a brave but losing 
fight against consumption. He spent some time in San 
Antonio, Texas, in the winter of 1872. 

The next year he determined to go to the North or 
East, where he could find encouragement and opportunity 
to devote himself to the twin arts of music and poetry. 
He was engaged as first flute in the Peabody Symphony 
Concerts in Baltimore, and for the remaining nine years 
of his life he reveled in the musical and scholarly atmos- 
phere of this and other eastern cities. He soon made warm 
friends of many notable persons, such as Bayard Taylor, 
Charlotte Cushman, Gibson Peacock of Philadelphia, 
Leopold Damrosch, President Gilman, and others. Again 
he was under the necessity of being separated from his 
family; but while these enforced periods of separation 
were extremely painful to the poet and his wife, the general 
public may count them fortunate, in that they were the 
occasion of a series of beautiful personal letters giving 
the musical impressions and aspirations of the poet- 
musician. Lanier ranks easily among the first letter 



212 Southern Literary Readings 

writers of America. The brief selections from his letters 
found in this book are wholly inadequate to give one a 
just appreciation of the fullness with which the poet has 
expressed himself by means of the delicate art of personal 
correspondence. Students who are interested in his life 
or in this kind of composition should read the published 
volume of his letters. 

The later years of the poet's life, while consciously 
devoted to art, were a struggle against poverty and disease. 
In the winter of 1876-7 his health became so greatly 
impaired that his physicians and friends prevailed on him 
to go to Tampa, Florida, to recuperate. In the leisure 
of this visit Lanier produced many notable poems, among 
them being Tampa Robins, Beethoven, The Waving of the 
Corn, The Song of the Chattahoochee, The Stirrup Cup, 
An Evening Songy The Mocking-bird. On his return to 
Baltimore in the spring, he tried to find some employ- 
ment to supplement the meager income from his position 
in the Peabody Symphony Orchestra. All the efforts 
of himself and his friends seemed of no avail. It was at 
this time that what Professor Mims calls "perhaps the 
most pathetic words in all his letters" were written by 
the poet: "Altogether, it seems as if there wasn't any 
place for me in the 'world, and if it were not for May 
[his wife] I should certainly quit it, in mortification at 
being so useless." 

Finally he hit upon the idea of organizing private classes 
for a series of lectures on English poetry. He had been 
taking every advantage of the excellent libraries and 
opportunities for culture in Baltimore, and he had devel- 
oped rapidly under the inspiration of the literary and 
artistic liie of that city. He was reading deeply into the 
Old and Middle English and the Elizabethan writers. His 
sympathetic interpretations attracted a goodly number 
of students to his classes, and the success of these private 
lectures soon gave him an opportunity to present the 
results of his investigations in a regular series of lectures 
in Johns Hopkins University. It was in 1879 that 
President Oilman appointed him to a lectureship in 
English literature. 

During all this time Lanier was turning out many 



Sidney Lanier 21 j 

excellent works, both creative and editorial. His Boy's 
Froissart, Boy's King Arthur, Boy's Percy, Boy's Mabino- 
gion are still standard juvenile books. He was gradually 
working out in concrete examples of poetic composition 
his theories of the interrelationship of music and poetry. 
Poems like The Symphony, The Song of the Chattahoochee, 
The Marshes of Glynn, Sunrise, almost justify these 
theories, though later critics, while acknowledging the 
fascination and suggestiveness of The Science of English 
Verse, have generally refuted the extremes to which the 
author presses his theories of the interrelationship between 
the two arts. 

In 1880 Lanier tried to fill his engagements at the uni- 
versity, but it is said that his hearers were in constant 
dread lest each breath should be his last. It was only 
by the conquering power of his will that he kept him- 
self alive at all. He rode to the hall in a closed carriage, 
and sat during the hour, being unable to stand to deliver 
his lectures. In 1881 he sought relief in the mountains 
near Asheville in North Carolina. His father and his 
brother Clifford were with htm for several weeks, but 
only his wife was there when the end came. Mr. 
William Hayes Ward, in his memorial essay, which is 
attached as introduction to the volume of Lanier's Poems, 
quotes Mrs. Lanier's own words: 

"We are left alone with one another. On the last 
night of the summer comes a change. His love and 
immortal will hold off the destroyer of our summer yet 
one more week, until the forenoon of September 7th, and 
then falls the frost, and that unfaltering will renders its 
supreme submission to the adored will of God." 

He was buried in Greenwood Cemetery in Baltimore, 
the beloved city of his adoption. 

(The fullest and most satisfactory life of Lanier is that by Edwin 
Mims. Other noteworthy studies are those by Morgan Callaway, 
Jr., in his Select Poems of Sidney Lanier, and by Henry Nelson 
Snyder in his volume on Lanier.) 



SONG OF THE CHATTAHOOCHEE 

Out of the hills of Habersham, 

Down the valleys of Hall, 
I hurry amain to reach the plain, 
Run the rapid and leap the fall, 
Split at the rock and together again. 
Accept my bed, or narrow or wide, 
And flee from folly on every side 
With a lover's pain to attain the plain 

Far from the hills of Habersham, 

Far from the valleys of Hall. 

All down the hills of Habersham, 

All through the valleys of Hall, 
The rushes cried Abide, abide, 
The willful waterweeds held me thrall, 
The laving laurel turned my tide. 
The ferns and the fondling grass said Stay, 
The dewberry dipped for to work delay. 
And the little reeds sighed Abide, abide, 

Here in the hills of Habersham, 

Here in the valleys of Hall. 

High o'er the hills of Habersham, 

Veiling the valleys of Hall, 
The hickory told me manifold 
Fair tales of shade, the poplar tall 
Wrought me her shadowy self to hold. 
The chestnut, the oak, the walnut, the pine, 
Overleaning, with flickering meaning and sign, 

' [214] 



Song of the Chattahoochee 215 

Said, Pass not, so cold, these manifold 

Deep shades of the hills of Habersham, 
These glades in the valleys of Hall. 

And oft in the hills of Habersham, 

And oft in the valleys of Hall, 
The white quartz shone, and the smooth brook-stone 
Did bar me of passage with friendly brawl. 
And many a luminous jewel lone 
— Crystals clear or a-cloud with mist, 
Ruby, garnet and amethyst — 
Made lures with the lights of streaming stone 

In the clefts of the hills of Habersham, 

In the beds of the valleys of Hall. 

But oh, not the hills of Habersham, 

And oh, not the valleys of Hall 
Avail : I am fain for to water the plain. 
Downward the voices of Duty call — 
Downward, to toil and be mixed with the main, 
The dry fields burn, and the mills are to turn, 
And a myriad flowers mortally yearn, 
And the lordly main from beyond the plain 

Calls o'er the hills of Habersham, 

Calls through the valleys of Hall. j 



2i6 Southern Literary Readings 

A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER 

Into the woods my Master went, 

Clean forspent, forspent. 

Into the woods my Master came, 

Forspent with love and shame. 

But the olives they were not blind to Him, 

The little gray leaves were kind to Him : 

The thorn-tree had a mind to Him 

When into the woods He came. 

Out of the woods my Master went, 

And He was well content. 

Out of the woods my Master came 

Content with death and shame. 

When Death and Shame would woo Him last. 

From under the trees they drew Him last : 

'Twas on a tree they slew Him — last 

When out of the woods He came. 



MY SPRINGS 

In the heart of the Hills of Life, I know 
Two springs that with unbroken flow 
Forever pour their lucent streams 
Into my soul's far Lake of Dreams. 

Not larger than two eyes, they lie 
Beneath the many-changing sky 
And mirror all of life and time, 
— Serene and dainty pantomime. 

Shot through with lights of stars and dawns. 
And shadowed sweet by ferns and fawns, 



My Springs 21^ 

— Thus heaven and earth together vie 
Their shining depths to sanctify. 

Always when the large Form of Love 
Is hid by storms that rage above, 
I gaze in my two springs and see 
Love in his very verity. 

Always when Faith with stifling stress 
Of grief hath died in bitterness, 
I gaze in my two springs and see 
A Faith that smiles immortally. 

Always when Charity and Hope, 
In darkness bounden, feebly grope, 
I gaze in my two springs and see 
A Light that sets my captives free. 

Always, when Art on perverse wing 
Flies where I cannot hear him sing, 
I gaze in my two springs and see 
A charm that brings him back to me. 

When Labor faints, and Glory fails, 
And coy Reward in sighs exhales, 
I gaze in my two springs and see 
Attainment full and heavenly. 

O Love, O Wife, thine eyes are they, 

— My springs from out whose shining gray 

Issue the sweet celestial streams 

That feed my life's bright Lake of Dreams. 

Oval and large and passion-pure 
And gray and wise and honor-sure ; 



21 8 Southern Literary Readings 

Soft as a dying violet-breath 
Yet calmly unafraid of death ; 

Thronged, like two dove-cotes of gray doves, 
With wife's and mother's and poor-folk's loves, 
And home-loves and high glory-loves 
And science-loves and story-loves. 

And loves for all that God and man 
In art and nature make or plan, 
And lady-loves for spidery lace 
And broideries and supple grace 

And diamonds and the whole sweet round 
Of littles that large life compound, 
And loves for God and God's bare truth, 
And loves for Magdalen and Ruth. 

Dear eyes, dear eyes and rare complete — 
Being heavenl/-sweet and earthly-sweet, 
— I marvel that God made you mine. 
For when He frowns, 'tis then ye shine! 



STANZAS FROM "CORN" 

I wander to the zigzag-cornered fence 

Where sassafras, intrenched in brambles dense. 

Contests with stolid vehemence 

The march of culture, setting limb and thorn 
As pikes against the army of the corn. 

There, while I pause, my fieldward-faring eyes 
Take harvests, where the stately corn-ranks rise, 



Stanzas from "Corn" 21 q 

Of inward dignities 
And large benignities and insights wise, 

Graces and modest majesties. 
Thus, without theft, I reap another's field; 
Thus, without tilth, I house a wondrous yield, 
And heap my heart with quintuple crops concealed. 

Look, out of line one tall corn-captain stands 
Advanced beyond the foremost of his bands, 
And waves his blades upon the very edge 
And hottest thicket of the battling hedge. 
Thou lustrous stalk, that ne'er mayst walk nor talk. 
Still shalt thou type the poet-soul sublime 
That leads the vanward of his timid time 
And sings up cowards with commanding rhyme — 
Soul calm, like thee, yet fain, like thee, to grow 
By double increment, above, below; 

Soul homely, as thou art, yet rich in grace like thee. 
Teaching the yeomen selfless chivalry 
That moves in gentle curves of courtesy ; 
Soul filled like thy long veins with aweetness tense. 

By every godlike sense 
Transmuted from the four wild elements. 
Drawn to high plans. 
Thou lift'st more stature than a mortal man's, 
Yet ever piercest downward in the mould 
And keepest hold 
Upon the reverend and steadfast earth 

That gave thee birth; 
Yea, standest smiling in thy future grave, 

Serene and brave. 
With unremitting breath 
Inhaling life from death. 
Thine epitaph writ fair in fruitage eloquent, 
Thyself thy monimient. 



220 Southern Literary Readings 

THREE LETTERS 

I 

Macon, Ga., April 13, 1870. 
My Dear Mr. Hayne : Watching, night and day, for 
two weeks past, by the bedside of a sick friend, I have had 
no spiritual energy to escape out of certain gloomy ideas 

5 which always possess me when I am in the immediate 
presence of physical ailment; and I did not care to write 
you that sort of letter which one is apt to send under such 
circumstances, since I gather from your letters that you 
have enough and to spare of these dismal down-weighings 

10 of the flesh's ponderous cancer upon suffering and thought- 
ful souls. 

I am glad, therefore, that I waited until this divine 
day. If the year were an Orchestra, to-day would be the 
Flute-tone in it. A serene Hope, just on the very verge 

15 of realizing itself; a tender loneliness, — what some Ger- 
man calls Waldeinsamkeity wood-loneliness, — the ineffable 
withdrawal-feeling thsPt comes over one when he hides 
himself in among the trees, and knows himself shut in by 
their purity, as by a fragile yet impregnable wall, from the 

20 suspicions and the trade-regulations of men; and an inward 
thrill, in the air, or in the sunshine, one knows not which, 
half like the thrill of the passion of love, and half like the 
thrill of the passion of friendship; — these, which make 
up the office of the flute-voice in those poems which the 

25 old masters wrote for the Orchestra, also prevail through- 
out to-day. 

Do you like — as I do — on such a day to go out into 
the sunlight and stop thinking, — lie fallow, like a field, and 
absorb those certain liberal potentialities which will in after 

80 days reappear, duly formulated, duly grown, duly per- 
fected, as poems ? I have a curiosity to know if to you, as 



Three Letters 221 

to me, there come such as this day: — a day exquisitely 
satisfying with all the fulnesses of the Spring, and filling 
you as full of nameless tremors as a girl on a wedding- 
mom; and yet, withal, a day which utterly denies you the 35 
gift of speech, which puts its finger on the lip of your 
inspiration, which inexorably enforces upon your soul a 
silence that you infinitely long to break, a day, in short, 
which takes absolute possession of you and says to you, 
in tones which command obedience, to-day you must 40 
forego expression and all outcome, you must remain a fallow 
field, for the sun and wind to fertilize, nor shall any corn or 
flowers sprout into visible green and red until to-morrow, — 
mandates, further, that you have learned after a little 
experience not only not to fight against, but to love and 45 
revere as the wise communication of the Unseen Powers. 
Have you seen Browning's **The Ring and the Book"? 
I am confident that, at the birth of this man, among all the 
good fairies who showered him with magnificent endow- 
ments, one bad one — as in the old tale — crept in by stealth 50 
and gave him a constitutional twist i' the neck, whereby 
his windpipe became, and has ever since remained, a mar- 
vellous tortuous passage. Out of this glottis-labyrinth his 
words won't, and can't come straight. A hitch and a 
sharp crook in every sentence bring you up with a shock. 55 
But what a shock it is ! Did you ever see a picture of a 
lasso, in the act of being flung? In a thousand coils and 
turns, inextricably crooked and involved and whirled, yet, 
if you mark the noose at the end, you see that it is directly 
in front of the bison's head, there, and is bound to catch eo 
him ! That is the way Robert Browning catches you. The 
first sixty or seventy pages of ''The Ring and the Book" 
are altogether the most doleful reading, in point either 
of idea or of music, in the English language; and yet the 
monologue of Giuseppe Caponsacchi, that of Pompiliaes 



222 Southern Literary Readings 

Comparini, and the two of Guido Franceschini, are un- 
approachable, in their kind, by any hving or dead poet, 
me judice. Here Browning's jerkiness comes in with 
inevitable effect. You get lightning-glimpses — and, as one 
70 naturally expects from lightning, zig-zag glimpses — into 
the intense night of the passion of these souls. It is 
entirely wonderful and without precedent. The fitful play 
of Guido's lust, and scorn, and hate, and cowardice, closes 
with a master-stroke: 

75 "... Christ! Maria! God! . . . 

Pompilia, will you let them murder me?" 

Pompilia, mark you, is dead, by Guido's own hand; 
deliberately stabbed, because he hated her purity, which 
all along he has reviled and mocked with the Devil's own 

80 malignant ingenuity of sarcasm. 

You spoke of a project you wished to tell me. Let me 
hear it. Your plans are always of interest to me. Can 
I help you? I've not put pen to paper, in the literary 
way, in a long time. How I thirst to do so, how I long 

85 to sing a thousand various songs that oppress me, unsung, 
— is inexpressible. Yet, the mere work that brings bread 
gives me no time. I know not, after all, if this is a sorrow- 
ful thing. Nobody likes my poems except two or three 
friends, — who are themselves poets, and can supply 

90 themselves ! 

Strictly upon Scriptural principle, I've written you 
(as you see) almost entirely about myself. This is doing 
unto you as I would you should do unto me. Go, and 
do likewise. Write me about yourself. 

05 Your Friend, 

Sidney Lanier. 



Three Letters 22 j 

II 
Baltimore, December 2, 1873. 

Well, Flauto Primo hath been to his first rehearsal. 

Fancy thy poor lover, weary, worn, and stiiffed with 
a cold, arriving after a brisk walk — he was so afraid he 
might be behind time — at the hall of Peabody Institute. 5 
He passeth down betwixt the empty benches, turneth 
through the green-room, emergeth on the stage, greeteth 
the Maestro, is introduced by the same to Flauto Secondo, 
and then, with as much carelessness as he can assume, he 
sauntereth in among the rows of music-stools, to see if 10 
peradventure he can find the place where he is to sit — for 
he knoweth not, and liketh not to ask. He remembereth 
where the flutes sit in Thomas' Orchestra; but on going 
to the corresponding spot he findeth the part of Contra- 
Basso on the music-stand, and fleeth therefrom in terror, is 
In despair, he is about to endeavor to get some information 
on the sly, when he seeth the good Flauto Secondo sitting 
down far in front, and straightway marcheth to his place 
on the left of the same, with the air of one that had played 
there since babyhood. This Hamerik of ours hath French 20 
ideas about his orchestral arrangements and places his 
pieces very differently from Thomas. Well, I sit down, 
some late-comers arrive, stamping and blowing — for it is 
snowing outside — and pull the green-baize covers off their 
big horns and bass-fiddles. Presently the Maestro, who 25 
is rushing about, hither and thither, in some excite- 
ment, falleth to striking a great tuning-fork with a mallet, 
and straightway we all begin to toot A, to puff it, to groan 
it, to squeak it, to scrape it, until I sympathize with the 
poor letter, and glide off in some delicate little runs ; and 30 
presently the others begin to flourish also, and here we 
have it, up chromatics, down diatonics, unearthly buzzings 
from the big fiddles, diabolical four-string chords from 



224 Southern Literary Readings 

the 'cellos, passionate shrieks from the clarionets and 

35 oboes, manly remonstrances from the horns, querulous 
complaints from the bassoons, and so on. Now the 
Maestro mounteth to his perch. I am seated imme- 
diately next the audience, facing the first violins, who are 
separated from me by the conductor's stand. I place 

40 my part (of the Fifth Symphony of Beethoven, which I 
had procured two days before, in order to look over it, 
being told that on the first rehearsal we would try nothing 
but the Fifth Symphony) on my stand, and try to stop my 
heart from beating so fast — with unavailing arguments. 

45 Maestro rappeth with his baton, and magically stilleth all 
the shrieks and agonies of the instruments. "Fierst" 
(he saith, with the Frenchiest of French accents — tho' 
a Dane, he was educated in Paris) "I wish to present to 
ze gentlemen of ze orchestra our iierst flutist, Mr. Sidney 

50 Lanier, also our fierst oboe, Mr. (I didn't catch his name)." 
Whereupon, not knowing what else to do — and the pause 
being somewhat awkward — I rise and make a profound 
bow to the Reeds, who sit behind me, another to the 'Celli, 
the Bassi, and the Tympani, in the middle, and a third to 

55 the Violins opposite. This appeareth to be the right 
thing, for Oboe jumpeth up also, and boweth, and the 
gentlemen of the orchestra all rise and bow, some of them 
with great empressement. Then there is a little idiotic 
hum and simper, such as newly introduced people usually 

60 affect. Then cometh a man — whom I should always hate, 
if I could hate anybody always — and, to my horror, put- 
teth on my music-stand the fiauto primo part of Niels 
Gade's Ossian Overture, and thereupon the Maestro saith, 
**We will try that fierst." Horrors! They told me they 

65 would play nothing but the Fifth Symphony, and this 
Ossian Overture I have never seen or heard! This does 
not help my heart-beats nor steady my lips — thou canst 



Three Letters 22§ 

believe. However, there is no time to tarry; the baton 
rappeth, the horns blow, my five bars' rest is out — I 
plunge. 70 

— Oh! If thou couldst but be by me in this sublime 
glory of music! All through it I yearned for thee with 
heart-breaking eagerness. The beauty of it maketh me 
catch my breath — to write of it. I will not attempt to 
describe it. It is the spirit of the poems of Ossian done 75 
in music by the wonderful Niels Gade. 

I got through it without causing any disturbance. 
Maestro had to stop twice on account of some other 
players. I failed to come in on time twice in the Sym- 
phony. I am too tired now to give thee any further so 
account. I go again to rehearsal to-morrow. 



Ill 

Tampa, Fla., January 11, 1877. 

My Dear Mr. Taylor: What would I not give to 
transport you from your frozen sorrows instantly into the 
midst of the green leaves, the gold oranges, the glitter 
of great and tranquil waters, the liberal friendship of the 5 
sun, the heavenly conversation of robins and mocking- 
birds and larks, which fill my days with delight! 

But if I commence in this strain I shall never have done ; 
and I am writing in full rebellion against the laws now of 
force over the land of Me — which do not yet allow me to 10 
use the pen by reason of the infirmity of my lung; yet I 
could not help sending you some little greeting for the 
New Year, with a violet and a rose which please find here- 
within. The violet is for purity, — and I wish that you 
may be pure all this year; and the rose is for love — and 15 
I 'm sure I shall love you all the year. 

15 



226 Southern Literary Readings 

We are quite out of the world and know not its doings. 
The stage which brings our mail (twice a week only) 
takes three days to reach the railroad at Gainesville; and 

20 it is a matter of from nine days to any conceivable time for 
a letter to reach here from New York. Nevertheless, — 
nay, all the more therefore, — send me a line that I may 
know how you fare, body and soul. 

I received a check for fifteen dollars from Mr. Alden, 

25 Editor "Harpers," for the poem you sent to him; and I 
make little doubt that I owe its acceptance to the circum- 
stance that you sent it. I hear of an "International 
Review," but have not seen any copy of it: do you think 
it would care for anything like the enclosed? — a poem 

30 which I have endeavored to make bum as hotly as, yet 
with a less highly colored flame than, others of mine. If 
you do, pray direct the envelope; if not, address it to the 
"Galaxy," unless you think that inadvisable: in which 
last event keep the copy, if you like. 

85 I had a very cordial letter from Mr. Eggleston about 
my volume of poems, which gave me pleasure. 

I 'm sure you 11 be glad to know that I improve decidedly ; 
I see no reason to doubt that I shall be soon at work 
again. In truth, I * ' bubble song ' ' continually during these 

40 heavenly days, and it is as hard to keep me from the pen 
as a toper from his tipple. 

I hope Mrs. Taylor is well, and beg you to commend 
me 'to her; wherein my wife very heartily joins me, as well 
as in fair messages to you. I wrote you several times 

45 before leaving Philadelphia: did you get the letters? 

Your faithful friend, 

S. L. 



IRWIN RUSSELL 

Irwin Russell, the boy poet of Mississippi, lived but 
twenty-six years, and yet, as one of his biographers has 
said, because of his sufferings his life was a long one. And 
for this, as has been the case with many a man of genius, he 
had only himself and his wayward temperament to blame, 
for his friends and relatives did all they could by way 
of warning and pleading to save him. He was born at 
Port Gibson, Mississippi, June 3, 1853. His father. Dr. 
William McNab Russell, though bom and reared in Ohio, 
was of Virginia extraction; and his mother was of New 
England ancestry. After finishing his medical education. 
Dr. Russell married and moved to Port Gibson, to begin 
the practice of his profession. Here an epidemic of yellow 
fever broke out in the year of Irwin's birth, and the child 
suffered a severe attack of the dreaded disease when he 
was but three months old. Though he recovered from the 
malady, it is thought that his constitution was permanently 
weakened by the fever. Dr. Russell moved to St. Louis 
shortly after the boy's recovery, and here at an early age 
Irwin was placed in school. The boy's remarkable pre- 
cocity attracted considerable notice among his father's 
friends and acquaintances. 

At the outbreak of the war the family moved back to 
Port Gibson, for Dr. Russell was a warm supporter of the 
cause of the Confederacy. When Irwin was old enough 
to be sent to college he was put in the Jesuit school known 
as the St. Louis University. He pursued a general com- 
mercial course here, and was graduated in 1869, at the 
age of sixteen. Returning to Mississippi, he read law, and 
two years before he reached his majority he was by a 
special legislative enactment admitted to the bar and 
licensed to practice. However, he seems to have done 
little in his profession. Music and literature were more 
attractive to him than courts and briefs, and he eventually 
gave up his law practice to devote himself to literature. 

[227] 



228 Southern Literary Readings 

Russell played well on the piano, and was an adept 
on the banjo. By a happy accident he was led into com- 
posing impromptu verses imitative of the negro songs he 
heard sung by the servants of his father's household. He 
sang these songs to the music of the banjo, that instru- 
ment so dear to the darky's heart and so well suited to 
the expression of the negro's emotional nature. A few of 
these dialect poems were published in local papers, but 
in January, 1876, one of the best of the negro character 
studies, ifncle Cap Interviewed, appeared in Scrihner's 
Monthly, and from that date on until 1880 this magazine 
continued to publish Russell's poems. 

Competent critics at once recognized in these dialect 
poems a new type of writing, which opened a fresh and 
rich literary vein for Southern writers to develop. The 
negro dialect gave the only practical approach to the 
exposition and delineation of the true negro character. 
It is generally acknowledged that Russell was the first to 
use the negro dialect and negro life and character for purely 
artistic purposes. Negro characters had appeared in other 
works of fiction, but they were either subordinated or 
made the means of a political or altruistic appeal, as in 
Mrs. Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin. Since Irwin Russell's 
successful work in this line, other artists have arisen who 
have used the negro as material for literary treatment, 
among them Joel Chandler Harris of Georgia in his Uncle 
Remus stories and Thomas Nelson Page of Virginia in his 
negro-dialect stories and poems. In his brief introduction 
to Russell's poems Joel Chandler Harris says: 

"It seems to me that some of Irwin Russell's negro- 
character studies rise to the level of what, in a large way, 
we term literature. His negro operetta, 'Christmas-Night 
in the Quarters,' is inimitable. It cordbines the features 
of a character study with a series of bold and striking 
plantation pictures that have never been surpassed. In 
this remarkable group, — if I may so term it, — the old life 
before the war is reproduced with a fidelity that is 
marvelous." 

Thomas Nelson Page pays a similar tribute to Russell in 
acknowledging the debt he owes to the Mississippian as 
the one who first led him in the way he has since followed. 



Irwin Russell 22Q 

Dialect is not, to be sure, the highest artistic medium for 
poetical expression, but the best of it is well worthy of 
preservation, and surely there is no better negro-dialect 
verse written than that by Russell. He understood the 
negro character thoroughly, and all that he wrote is true 
to the simple, homely life of the old-time plantation darky. 

The last years of Russell's life were unhappy. In 1878, 
at the time of another terrible epidemic of yellow fever at 
Port Gibson, he broke himself down completely nursing 
the sick, attending the distressed, and burying the dead. 
His own father died in the epidemic, and this blow left 
the young man hopeless and stunned, for his father had 
been his idol. With a restless desire to get away from 
the scenes of his distress, and with a faint hope that he 
might yet conquer his excessive use of alcoholic stimulants 
and make a name for himself in literature, he went to 
New York. Here he quickly won warm friends and 
admirers among the literary people with whom he was 
thrown in contact as a contributor to Scrihner's Monthly; 
but his old habits reasserted themselves, and he soon fell 
seriously ill. After his recovery — partially, no doubt, 
from a feeling of remorse because of his excesses — he 
seemed to wish to get away from the friends who had 
niu"sed him through his illness and contributed to his 
comfort while he was in need. He secretly left New 
York on a steamer bound for New Orleans, working his 
passage as a stoker. On reaching New Orleans he 
attached himself to the Times as a reporter or literary 
contributor and once more tried to make a success of life. 
But his habits had gained too strong a hold on him, and 
he seemed to realize that he was a doomed man. He 
wrote some serious poems at this time, indicative of his 
hopelessness so far as this life went but of his hopefulness 
for the life yet to be. 

He died December 23, 1879, and was buried in New 
Orleans, but later his body was removed and placed beside 
his father's remains in Bellefontaine Cemetery, St. Louis. 

(The best essays on Irwin Russell are those by W. M. Baskervill 
in Southern Writers, Vol. I, and by Joel Chandler Harris in the 
volume of Poems by Irwin Russell, published by the Century Co., 
1888.) 



CHRISTMAS -NIGHT IN THE QUARTERS 

When merry Christmas-day is done, 
And Christmas-night is just begun ; 

~^ While clouds in slow procession drift, 

To wish the moon-man ''Christmas gift," 

Yet linger overhead, to know 

What causes all the stir below; 

At Uncle Johnny Booker's ball 

The darkies hold high carnival. 

From all the country-side they throng, 

With laughter, shouts, and scraps 

of song, — 
Their whole deportment plainly showing 
That to the frolic they are going. 
Some take the* path with shoes in hand. 
To traverse muddy bottom-land; 
Aristocrats their steeds bestride — 

J Four on a mule, behold them ride ! 
'^ And ten great oxen draw apace 
The wagon from "de oder place," 
With forty guests, whose conversation 
Betokens glad anticipation. 
Not so with him who drives : old Jim 
Is sagely solemn, hard, and grim. 
And frolics have no joys for him. 
He seldom speaks but to condemn — 
Or utter some wise apothegm — 
Or else, some crabbed thought pursuing. 
Talk to his team, as now he 's doing : 

[230] 



M 



Christmas-night in the Quarters 23! 

Come up heah, Star! Yee-bawee! 

You alluz is a-laggin' — 
Mus' be you think I 's dead, 

An' dis de huss you 's draggin' — 
You 's 'mos' too lazy to draw yo' bref , 

Let lone drawin' de waggin. 

Dis team — quit bel'rin', sah! 

De ladies don't submit 'at — 
Dis team — you oF fool ox, 

You heah me tell you quit 'at? 
Dis team's des like de 'Nited States; 

Dat '5 what I 's tryin' to git at ! 



^^ \ De people rides behin', 

De pollytishners haulin' — 
Sh'u'd be a well-bruk ox, 

To foller dat ar callin' — 
An* sometimes nuffin won't do dem steers, 
But what dey mus' be stallin' ! 

Woobahgh! Buck-kannon! Yes, sah, 
Sometimes dey will be stickin' ; 

An' den, fus thing dey knows, 
Dey takes a rale good lickin'. 

De folks gits down : an' den watch out 
For hommerin' an' kickin'. 

Dey blows upon dey hands. 
Den flings 'em wid de nails up. 

Jumps up an' cracks dey heels. 
An' pruzently dey sails up, 

An' makes dem oxen hump deysef , 
By twistin' all dey tails up ! 



A 



2^2 Southern Literary Readings 

In this our age of printer's ink 
'Tis books that show us how to think — 
The rule reversed, and set at naught, 
That held that books were bom of thought. 
We form our minds by pedants' rules, 
And all we know is from the schools ; 
And when we work, or when we play, 
We do it in an ordered way — 
And Nature's self pronounce a ban on, 
Whene'er she dares transgress a canon. 
Untrammeled thus the simple race is 
That "wuks the craps" on cotton places. 
"^nDriginal in act and thought, 
^\ Because unlearned and untaught. 
■^' Observe them at their Christmas party: 

How unrestrained their mirth — how hearty! 

How many things they say and do 

That never would occur to you ! 

See Brudder Brown — whose saving grace 

Would sanctify a quarter race— 

Out on the crowded floor advance, 

To *'beg a blessin' on dis dance." 



O Mahsr! let dis gath'rin' fin' a blessin' in yo' sight! 
Don't jedge us hard fur what we does — you knows it's 

Chrismus-night ; 
An' all de balunce ob de yeah we does as right 's we kin. 
Ef dancin's wrong, O Mahsr! let de time excuse de sin! 

We labors in de vineya'd, wukin' hard an' wukin' true; 
85 Now, shorely you won't notus, ef we eats a grape or two, 
An' takes a leetle holiday, — a leetle restin'-spell, — 
Bekase, nex' week, we '11 start in fresh, an' labor twicet 
as well. 



Christmas-night in the Quarters 233 

Remember, Mahsr, — min' dis, now, — de sinfulness ob sin 
Is 'pendin' 'pon de sperrit what we goes an' does it in: 
An' in a righchis frame ob min' we 's gwine to dance an' 90 

sing, 
A-feelin' like King David, when he cut de pigeon-wing. 

It seems to me — indeed it do — I mebbe mout be wrong — 
That people raly ought to dance, when Chrismus comes 

along; 
Des dance bekase dey's happy — like de birds hops in de 

trees, 
De pine-top fiddle soundin' to de bowin' ob de breeze. qs 

We has no ark to dance afore, like Isrul's prophet king; 
We has no harp to soun' de chords, to holp us out to 

sing; 
But 'cordin' to de gif 's we has we does de bes' we knows, 
An' folks don't 'spise de vi'let-flower bekase it ain't de 

rose. 

You bless us, please, sah, eben ef we 's doin' wrong to-night; loc 
Kase den we '11 need de blessin' more 'n ef we 's doin' right; 
An' let de blessin' stay wid us, untel we comes to die. 
An' goes to keep our Chrismus wid dem sheriffs in de sky! 

Yes, tell dem preshis anguls we's a-gwine to jine 'em soon: 
Our voices we's a-trainin' fur to sing de glory tune; 105 

We's ready when you wants us, an' it ain't no matter 

when — 
Mahsr ! call yo' chillen soon, an' take 'em home ! Amen. 

The rev 'rend man is scarcely through, 
When all the noise begins anew, 
And with such force assaults the ears, 



234 Southern Literary Readings 

That through the din one hardly hears 
Old fiddling Josey * 'sound his A," 
Correct the pitch, begin to play, 
Stop, satisfied, then, with the bow, 
Rap out the signal dancers know : 

Git yo' pardners, fust kwattillion! 
Stomp yo' feet, an' raise 'em high; 
Tune is: "Oh! dat water-million ! 
Gwine to git to home bime-bye. ' ' 
SVute yo' pardners I — scrape perlitely— 
Don't be bumpin' gin de res' — 
Balance all! — now, step out rightly; 
Alluz dance yo' lebbel bes'. 
Fo'wa'd foah ! — whoop up, niggers ! 
Back ag'in! — don't be so slow! — 
Swing cornaks! — min' de figgers! 
When I hollers, den yo' go. 
Top ladies cross ober ! 
HoF on, till I takes a dram — 
Gemmen solo! — yes, I 's sober — 
Cain't say how de fiddle am. 
Hans around! — hoi' up yo' faces. 
Don't be lookin' at yo' feet! 
Swing yo' pardners to yo' places! 
Dat 's de way — dat 's hard to beat. 
Sides fo'w'd ! — when you 's ready — 
Make a bow as low 's you kin ! 
Swing acrost wid opposite lady ! 
Now we'll let you swap ag'in: 
I Ladies change! — shet up dat talkin' ; 

Do yo' talkin' arter while! 
Right an' lef! — don't want no walkin'- 
Make yo' steps, an' show yo' style! 



Christmas-night in the Quarters 235 

And so the "set" proceeds — its length 
Determined by the dancers' strength; 
And all agree to yield the palm 
For grace and skill to * ' Georgy Sam, ' ' 
Who stamps so hard, and leaps so high, 

* * Des watch him ! " is the wond 'ring cry — 

* * De nigger mus' be, for a f ac' , 
Own cousin to a jiimpin'-jack ! " 
On, on the restless fiddle sounds, 
Still chorused by the curs and hounds ; 
Dance after dance succeeding fast, 

V Till supper is announced at last. 

y That scene — but why attempt to show it? 

The most inventive modem poet, 
In fine new words whose hope and trust is, 
Could form no phrase to do it justice ! 
When supper ends — that is not soon — 
^^'th& fiddle strikes the same old tune ; 
^ The dancers pound the floor again. 

With all they have of might and main ; 
Old gossips, almost turning pale. 
Attend Aunt Cassy's gruesome tale 
Of conjurors, and ghosts, and devils. 
That in the smoke-house hold their revels ; 
Each drowsy baby droops his head, 
Yet scorns the very thought of bed: — 

. So wears the night, and wears so fast, 

f All wonder when they find it past. 

And hear the signal sound to go 
From what few cocks are left to crow. 
Then, one and all, you hear them shout : 
"Hi! Booker! fotch de banjo out, 
An' gib us one song 'fore we goes — 
One ob de berry bes' you knows!" 



2j6 Southern Literary Readings 

Responding to the welcome call, 
He takes the banjo from the wall, 
180 And tunes the strings with skill and care, 

Then strikes them with a master's air, 
And tells, in melody and rhyme, 
This legend of the olden time : 

Go 'way, fiddle! folks is tired o' hearin' you a-squawk- 

in'. 
185 Keep silence fur yo* betters! — don't you heah de banjo 

talkin' ? 
About de 'possum's tail she's gwine to lecter — ladies, 

listen ! — 
About de ha'r whut is n't dar, an' why de ha'r is missin' : 

"Dar's gwine to be a' oberfiow," said Noah, lookin' 

solemn. — 
Fur Noah tuk the "Herald," an' he read de ribber 
column — 
leo An' so he sot his hands to wuk a-cl'arin' timber-patches. 
An' 'lowed he 's gwine to build a boat to beat the 
steamah Natchez. 

or Noah kep' a-nailin' an' a-chippin' an' a-sawin'; 
An' all de wicked neighbors kep' a-laughin' an' a-pshaw- 

in'; 
But Noah didn't min' 'em, knowin' whut wuz gwine to 

happen : 
195 An' forty days an' forty nights de rain it kep' a-drap- 

pin'. 

Now, Noah had done cotched a lot ob ebry sort o' 

beas'es — 
Ob all de shows a-trabbelin', it beat *em all to pieces! 



Christmas-night in the Quarters 2^y 

He had a Morgan colt an* sebral head o' Jarsey cattle — 
An' dnkV 'em 'board de Ark as soon's he heered de 
thunder rattle. 

Den sech anoder fall ob rain! — it come so awful hebby, 200 
De ribber riz immejitly, an' busted troo de lebbee; 
De people all was drownded out — 'cep' Noah an' de 

critters, 
An' men he 'd hired to work de boat — an' one to mix 

de bitters. 

De Ark she kep' a-sailin' an ' a-sailin' an' a-sailin' ; 

De lion got his dander up, an' like to bnik de palin'; 205 

De sarpints hissed; de painters yelled; tell, whut wid 

all de fussin', 
You c'u'dn't hardly heah de mate a-bossin' 'roun' an' 

cussin'. 

Now, Ham, de only nigger whut wuz runnin' on de 

packet, 
Got lonesome in de barber-shop, an' c'u'dn't stan' de 

racket ; 
An' so, fur to amuse he-se'f , he steamed some wood an' 210 

bent it. 
An' soon he had a banjo made — de fust dat wuz in^ 

vented. 

He wet de ledder, stretched it on; made bridge an* 

screws an' aprin; 
An' fitted in a proper neck — 't wuz berry long an' tap 'rin' ; 
He tuk some tin, an' twisted him a thimble fur to ring 

it; 
An' den de mighty question riz : how wuz he gwine to 215 

string it? 



-2j5 Southern Literary Readings 

De 'possum had as fine a tail as dis dat I 's a-singin'; 
De ha'rs so long an' thick an' strong, — des fit fur 

banjo-stringin' ; 
Dat nigger shaved em' off as short as wash-day-dinner 

graces; 
An' sorted ob 'em by de size, f'om little E's to basses. 

220 He strung her, tuned her, struck a jig, — 'twuz "Nebber 
min' de wedder," — 
She soun' like forty-lebben bands a-playin' all togedder; 
Some went to pattin' ; some to dancin' : Noah called 

de figgers; 
An' Ham he sot an' knocked de tune, de happiest ob 
niggers ! 

Now, sence dat time — it's mighty strange — dere 's not 

de slightes' showin' 
225 Ob any ha'r at all upon de 'possum's tail a-growin'; 
An' curi's, too, dat nigger's ways: his people nebber 

los' 'em — 
Fur whar you finds de nigger — dar's de banjo an' de 

'possum ! 

" ' : -■ The night is spent ; and as the day 

Throws up the first faint flash of gray, 
230 The guests pursue their homeward way ; 

And through the field beyond the gin, 

Just as the stars are going in, 
" See Santa Claus departing — grieving — 

His own dear Land of Cotton leaving. 
235 His work is done ; he fain would rest 

Where people know and love him best. 

He pauses, listens, looks about; 

But go he must : his pass is out. 



Business in Mississippi 239 

/' 

So, coughing down the rising tears, 
He climbs the fence and disappears. 
And thus observes a colored youth 
(The common sentiment, in sooth) : 
"Oh! what a blessin' 'tw'u'd ha' been, 
Ef Santy had been born a twin ! 
We 'd hab two Christmuses a yeah — 
Or p'r'aps one brudder'd settle heah!" 



BUSINESS IN MISSISSIPPI 

Why, howdy, Mahsr Johnny! Is you gone to keepin' 

store? 
Well, sah, I is surprised ! I nebber heard ob dat afore. 
Say, ain't you gwine to gib me piece o' good tobacco, 

please? 
I 's 'long wid you in Georgia, time we all wuz refugees. 

I know'd you would; I alluz tells the people, white an' 5 

black, 
Dat you 's a r'al gen'l'man, an' dat 's de libin' fac' — 
Yes, sah, dat 's what I tells 'em, an' it 's nuffin else but true, 
An' all de cullud people thinks a mighty heap ob you. 

Look heah, sah, don't you want to buy some cotton ? Yes, 

you do; 
Dere 's oder people wants it, but I 'd rader sell to you. 10 

How much? Oh, jes a bale — dat on de wagon in de 

street — 
Dis heah's de sample, — dis cotton 's mighty hard to beat! 

You *11 fin' it on de paper, what de offers is dat 's made; 
Dey 's all de same seditions, — half in cash, half in trade. 



240 Southern Literary Readings 

16 Dey 's mighty low, sah; come, now, can't you 'prove upon 
de rates 
Dat Barrot Brothers offers — only twelb an' seben-eights? 

Lord, Mahsr Johnny, raise it ! Don't you know dat I's a 

frien', 
An' when I has de money I is willin' fur to spen'f 
My custom 's wuff a heap, sah; jes you buy de bale an' see. 
20 Dere didn't nebber nobody lose nuffin off ob me. 

Now, what 's de use of gwine dere an' a-zaminin' ob de bale? 
When people trades wid me dey alluz gits an hones' sale; 
I ain't no han' fur cheatin'; I beliebes in actin' fa'r, 
An' ebry-body '11 tell you dey alluz foun' me squar'. 

25 1 isn't like some niggers; I declar' it is a shame 
De way some ob dem swin'les — ^What! de cotton ain't de 

same 
As dat 's in de sample ! well, I 'm blest, sah, ef it is ! 
Dis heah must be my'brudder's sample — Yes, sah, dis is his. 

If dat don't beat creation! Heah I've done been totin* 
'round 
80 A sample different from de cotton! I — will — be — con- 
sound ! 

Mahsr Johnny, you must scuse me. Take de cotton as it 
Stan's, 

An' tell me ef you 're willin' fur to take it off my han's. 

Sho! nebber min' de auger! 't ain't a bit o' use to bore; 
De bale is all de same's dis heah place de baggin's tore; 
85 You oughtn't to go pullin' out de cotton dat a-way; 
It spiles de beauty ob de — What, sah! rocks in dar, you 
say! 



Mahsr John 241 

Rocks in dat ar cotton! How de debbil kin dat be? 

I packed dat bale myse'f — hoi' on a minute, le' — me — 

see — 
My stars! I mus' be crazy! Mahsr Johnny, dis is fine! 
I 's gone an' hauled my brudder's cotton in, instead ob 40 

mine ! 



MAHSR JOHN 

I heahs a heap o' people talkin', ebrywhar I goes, 

'Bout Washintum an' Franklum, an' sech gen 'uses as dose; 

I s'pose dey 's mighty fine, but heah's de p'int I 's bettin' 

on: 
Dere wuzn't nar a one ob 'em come up to Mahsr John. 

He shorely wuz de greates' man de country ebber growed. 5 
You better had git out de way when he come 'long de 

road! 
He hel' his head up dis way, like he 'spised to see de 

groun'; 
An' niggers had to toe de mark when Mahsr John wuz 

roun*. 

I only has to shet my eyes, an' den it seems to me 

I sees him right afore me now, jes like he use' to be, 10 

A-settin' on de gal'ry, lookin' awful big an' wise, 

Wid little niggers fannin' him to keep away de flies. 

He alluz wore de berry bes' ob planters' linen suits. 
An' kep' a nigger busy jes a-blackin' ob his boots; 
De buckles on his galluses wuz made of solid gol', 15 

An' diamon's! — dey wuz in his shut as thick as it would 
hoi'. 

16 



242 Southern Literary Readings 

You heered me! 'twas a caution, when he went to take a 

ride, 
To see him in de kerridge, wid ol' Mistis by his side — 
Mulatter Bill a-dribin', an' a nigger on behin', 
20 An' two Kaintucky bosses tuk 'em tearin' whar dey gwine. 

or Mahsr John wuz pow'ful rich — he owned a heap o' Ian' : 
Fibe cotton places, 'sides a sugar place in Loozyan*; 
He had a thousan' niggers — an' he wuked 'em, shore's 

you born ! 
De oberseahs 'u'd start 'em at de breakin' ob de morn. 

25 1 reckon dere wuz forty ob de niggers, young an' ol', 
Dat staid about de big house jes to do what dey wuz tol' ; 
Dey had a' easy time, wid skacely any work at all — 
But dey had to come a-runnin' when ol' Mahsr John 
'u'd call! 

Sometimes he'd gib a frolic — dat's de time you seed de 

fun: t 

80 De 'ristocratic fam'lies, dey 'u'd be dar, ebry one; 
Dey 'd hab a band from New Orleans to play for 'em to 

dance, 
An* tell you what, de supper wuz a Hic'lar sarcumstance. 

Well, times is changed. De war it come an' sot de niggers 

free, 
An' now ol' Mahsr John ain't hardly wuf as much as me; 
35 He had to pay his debts, an' so his Ian' is mos'ly gone — 
An' I declar' I 's sorry fur my pore ol' Mahsr John. 

But when I heahs 'em talkin' 'bout some sullybrated 

man, 
I listens to 'em quiet, till dey done said all dey can, 



Nebuchadnezzar 243 

An' den I 'lows dat in dem days 'at I remembers on, 
Dot gemman war n't a patchin' onto my ol' Mahsr 
John! 



NEBUCHADNEZZAR 

You, Nebuchadnezzah, whoa, sah! 
Whar is you- tryin' to go, sah? 
I 'd hab you fur to know, sah, 

I 's a-holdin' ob de lines. 
You better stop dat prancin' ; 
You's pow'ful fond ob dancin', 
But I '11 bet my yeah's advancin' 

Dat I '11 cure you ob yo' shines. 

Look heah, mule ! Better min' out ; 
Fus' t'ing^you know you '11 fin' out 
How quick I '11 wear dis line out 

On your ugly, stubbo'n back. 
You needn't try to steal up 
An' lif dat precious heel up; 
You's got to plow dis fiel' up, 

You has, sah, fur a fac'. 

Dar, dat 's de way to do it ! 
He 's comin' right down to it; 
Jes watch him plowin' troo it ! 

Dis nigger ain't no fool. 
Some folks dey would 'a' beat him ; 
Now, dat would only heat him — 
I know jes how to treat him: 

You mus' reason wid a mule. 



244 Southern Literary Readings 

He minds me like a nigger. 

If he wuz only bigger 

He 'd fotch a mighty figger, 

He would, I tell you! Yes, sah! 
See how he keeps a-clickin' ! 
He 's as gentle as a chickin ! 
An' nebber thinks o' kickin' — 

Whoa dar! Nehuchadnezzah! 



Is dis heah me, or not me? 
Or is de debbil got me ? 
Wuz dat a cannon shot me? 

Hab I laid heah more 'n a week? 
Dat mule do kick amazin' ! 
De beast wuz sp'iled in raisin' — 
But now I 'spect he 's grazin' 

On de Oder side de creek. 




From a photograph. Courtesy oj Clark Howell 
HENRY WOODFIN GRADY 



HENRY WOODFIN GRADY 

The long list of eminent Southern orators includes no 
name that shines with greater luster than that of Henry 
Woodiin Grady. He was bom in Athens, Georgia, May 
17, 185 1. When he was just entering his teens he stood 
beside the open grave of his father, who had been brought 
back dead from the battle field of Petersburg, Virginia. 
Shortly after this loss, young Grady entered the Univer- 
sity of Georgia. He was not an ideal student, but he 
was an enthusiastic and distinguished member of one of 
the literary or debating societies. He was not awarded 
the honor he sought — that of being elected annual 
spokesman of his society — but he was chosen commence- 
ment orator in the year of his graduation. The following 
year Grady spent in further study at the University of 
Virginia. Again he entered enthusiastically into the work 
of the literary societies, and again he was disappointed 
in not being elected orator of his society. He earned for 
himself, however, the distinction of being one of the most 
brilliant speakers in the university. 

On his return to his native state he determined to make 
journalism his life work, and through thick and thin, 
through poverty and success, even in the face of flattering 
opportunities to go into politics and accept public office, he 
adhered to his determination. He began by reporting or 
writing special articles for various newspapers in his own 
fanciful and attractive style. Soon he launched into the 
business side of journalism by purchasing and combining 
two papers in Rome, Georgia. Grady had so many 
purely idealistic notions about newspaper work that he 
speedily made a financial failure of this venture. He then 
went to Atlanta, and in conjunction with two partners 
founded the Daily Herald. So daring and unpractical 
were the projects of these idealistic editors that the paper 
failed financially, and swept away the remnant of Grady's 
patrimony. 

[245] 



246 Southern Literary Readings 

But instead of becoming despondent over his financial 
troubles — he was now married and the proud father of 
two children — with undaunted courage he set forth to 
win his way to fortune and fame. Borrowing fifty dollars 
from a friend, he gave twenty of it to his wife, and with 
the remaining thirty left home to find work. He had a 
chance to secure the editorship of a paper in Wilmington, 
North Carolina, but felt there were larger opportunities 
for him in New York City. He reached the metropolis 
with only a few dollars in his pocket,, and with character- 
istic self-confidence took a room at the Astor House. 
Grady's own account of his experience in New York 
(reported by M.J. Verdery in his Memorial of Henry W. 
Grady) is so human and so characteristic of the impetuous 
Southerner that it seems worthy of reproduction in full: 

"After forcing down my unrelished breakfast on the 
morning of my arrival in New York, I went put on the 
sidewalk in front of the Astor House, and gave a bootblack 
twenty-five cents, one-fifth of which was to pay for shining 
my shoes, and the balance was a fee for the privilege of 
talking to him. I felt that I would die if I did not talk 
to somebody. Having stimulated myself at that doubtful 
fountain of sympathy, I went across to the Herald office, 
and the managing editor was good enough to admit me to 
his sanctum. It happened that just at that time several 
of the Southern States were holding constitutional con- 
ventions. The Herald manager asked me if I knew any- 
thing about politics; I replied that I knew very little 
about an3rthing else. 'Well,' said he, *sit at this desk 
and write me an article on State Conventions in the South.' 
With these words he tosssed me a pad and left me alone 
in the room. When my task-master returned, I had fin- 
ished the article and was leaning back in the chair with 
my feet up on the desk. 'Why, Mr. Grady, what is the 
matter? ' asked the managing editor. ' Nothing,' I replied, 
'except that I am through.' 'Very well, leave your copy 
on the desk, and if it amounts to an3rthing I will let you 
hear from me. Where are you stopping?' *I am at the 
Astor House.' Early the next morning, before getting out 
of bed, I rang for a hall-boy and ordered the Herald. I 
actually had not strength to get up and dress myself, 



Henry Woodfin Grady 24^ 

until I could see whether or not my article had been used. 
I opened the Herald with a trembling hand, and when I 
saw that 'State Conventions in the South' was on the 
editorial page, I fell back on the bed, buried my face in 
the pillow, and cried like a child. When I went back to 
the Herald ofhce that day the managing editor received 
me cordially and said, 'You can go back to Georgia, 
Mr. Grady, and consider yourself in the employ of the 
Herald:" . 

Shortly after this incident, Grady assumed, in con- 
junction with his work on the New York Herald, the 
duties of a reporter on the Atlanta Constitution, and it was 
on this paper that he worked during the remainder of his 
life. A few years later he borrowed the money to purchase 
an interest in the Constitution, and now all his energies 
went into the upbuilding of the prestige of this journal. 
With remarkable brilliancy of intellect, singleness of pur- 
pose, and nobleness of heart, he threw himself into the 
life of his people. There was scarcely a philanthropic' 
movement in his city of which he was not the mainstay and 
most enthusiastic promoter. The columns of his paper 
were always generously thrown open to appeals for the 
suffering, or for the promotion of institutions of a help- 
ful or educational nature. He seemed to have wonderful 
power of attaching all classes to him. His word in the 
editorial columns of his paper went farther and produced 
more immediate results than the mandates from governors' 
mansions, congressional halls, or political caucuses. He 
could have had any office within the gift of his people, but 
he cared fpr no political preferment. Yet no man in 
Georgia felt sure of election to any office of distinction 
unless he had Grady's endorsement and support. 

Already the idol of his own people, Grady by his great 
speech before the New England Society of New York City, 
December, 1886, suddenly leaped into national fame. He 
was at once reckoned one of the foremost orators of 
America, and every utterance of the last three years of his 
life only served to enhance this reputation. He was 
called upon repeatedly to speak, but owing to his editorial 
duties he could accept but few invitations. On many 
occasions he spoke to his fellow citizens in Atlanta and 



248 Southern Literary Readings 

elsewhere in Georgia, but as his speeches were largely 
extemporaneous and unreported, few of them have sur- 
vived. In October, 1887, he delivered at the State Fair in 
Dallas, Texas, an oration on The South and Her Problems. 
He had carefully prepared the manuscript of this, but when 
he rose to speak he discarded his written speech and 
trusted to the inspiration of the occasion. For vividness, 
pathos, imagination, and soaring eloquence, his picture 
of the wounded soldier has been thought to be unsur- 
passed in American oratory. At the Augusta Exposition 
in his own state, in November of this same year, he made 
another notable speech on the political problems of the 
Southern States. In June, 1889, before the literary soci- 
eties of the University of Virginia, he delivered an address 
against centralization. In this same month and year 
he spoke to a large gathering of Southern farmers at an 
old-time barbecue in the little city of Elberton, Georgia, 
his subject being The Farmer and the Cities. Of all his 
graphic word pictures the passage from this speech de- 
scriptive of the farmer's home is the one best known. 
The last and perhaps the greatest of all Grady's spoken 
messages was the speech on The Race Problem, delivered 
at the annual banquet of the Boston Merchants' Associa- 
tion in December, 1889. 

Returning home from his visit to New England, he fell 
a victim to pneumonia and died, December 23, 1889. 
Not only the South but the whole nation mourned his 
death. He had done more than any other man of his 
generation to heal the breach between the North and the 
South; and he will go down in history as one of the great 
national forces for good in the last half of the* nineteenth 
century. A monument has been erected to his memory 
in the city which, as a struggling young newspaper man, 
he adopted for his own. 

John Temple Graves — himself a distinguished Georgia 
author — in his eulogy on Grady pronounced at the 
Atlanta memorial service, said in part: 

"It is marvelous, past all telling, how he caught the 
heart of the country in the fervid glow of his own. All 
the forces of our statesmanship have not prevailed for 
union like the ringing speeches of this magnetic man. His 



\ 



The New South 24Q 

eloquence was the electric current over which the positive 
and negative poles of American sentiment were rushing to 
a warm embrace. It was the transparent medium through 
which the bleared eyes of the sections were learning to see 
each other clearer and to love each other better. . . . 

"If I should seek to touch the core of all his greatness, 
I would lay my hand upon his heart. I should speak of 
his humanity — his almost inspired sympathies, his sweet 
philanthropy, and the noble heartfulness that ran like a 
silver current through his life. His heart was the furnace 
where he fashioned all his glowing speech. Love Was the 
ciurrent that sent his golden sentences pulsing through the 
world, and in the hottest throb of human sympathies, he 
found the anchor that held him steadfast to all things 
great and true." 

(The chief work on Grady is the memorial volume compiled 
by his co-workers on the Atlanta Constitution and edited by Joel 
Chandler Harris : H&nry W. Grady, His Life, Writings, and Speeches.) 



THE NEW SOUTH 
Peroration 

The new South is enamored of her new work. Her 
soul is stirred with the breath of a new life. The light of 
a grander day is falling fair on her face. She is thrilling 
with the consciousness of growing power and prosperity. 
As she stands upright, full-statured and equal among the 
people of the earth, breathing the keen air and looking 
out upon the expanded horizon, she understands that 
her emancipation came because through the inscrutable 
wisdom of God her honest purpose was crossed, and her 
brave armies were beaten. 

This is said in no spirit of time-serving or apology. 
The South has nothing for which to apologize. She be- 
lieves that the late struggle between the States was war 
and not rebellion; revolution and not conspiracy, and 



2^0. Southern Literary Readings 

15 that her convictions were as honest as yours. I should be 
unjust to the dauntless spirit of the South and to my own 
convictions if I did not make this plain in this presence. 

^The South has nothing to take back. In my native town 
of Athens is a monument that crowns its central hill — a 

20 plain, white shaft. Deep cut into its shining side is a name 
dear to me above the names of men — that of a brave and 
simple man who died in brave and simple faith. Not for 
all the glories of New England, from Plymouth Rock all 
the way, would I exchange the heritage he left me in his 

25 soldier's death. To the foot of that [shaft] I shall send my 
children's children to reverence him who ennobled their 
name with his heroic blood. But, sir, speaking from the 
shadow of that memory which I honor as I do nothing else 
on earth, I say that the cause in which he suffered and for 

80 which he gave his life was adjudged by higher and fuller 
wisdom than his or mine, and I am glad that the omnis- 
cient God held the balance of battle in His Almighty hand 
and that human slavery was swept forever from American 
soil, the American Union saved from the wreck of war. 

85 This message, Mr. President, comes to you from conse- 
crated ground. Every foot of soil about the city in which 
I live is sacred as a battle-ground of the republic. Every 
hill that invests it is hallowed to you by the blood of your 
brothers who died for your victory, and doubly hallowed 

40 to us by the blood of those who died hopeless, but un- 
daunted, in defeat — sacred soil to all of us — rich with 
memories that make us purer and stronger and better — 
silent but staunch witness in its red desolation of the 
matchless valor of American hearts and the deathless 

45 glory of American arms — speaking an eloquent witness in 
its white peace and prosperity to the indissoluble union 
of American States and the imperishable brotherhood of 
the American people. 



The New South 251 

Now, what answer has New England to this message? 
Will she permit the prejudice of war to remain in the 50 
hearts of the conquerors, when it has died in the hearts 
of the conquered? Will she transmit this prejudice to 
the next generation, that in their hearts which never felt 
the generous ardor of conflict it may perpetuate itself? 
Will she withhold, save in strained courtesy, the hand 55 
which straight from his soldier's heart Grant offered to Lee 
at Appomattox? Will she make the vision of a restored 
and happy people, which gathered above the couch of your 
dying captain, filling his heart with grace, touching his 
lips with praise, and 'glorifying his path to the grave — eo 
will she make this vision on which the last sigh of his 
expiring soul breathed a benediction, a cheat and delusion? 
If she does, the South, never abject in asking for com- 
radeship, must accept with dignity its refusal; but if she 
does not refuse to accept in frankness and sincerity this es 
message of good will and friendship, then will the proph- 
ecy of Webster, delivered in this very society forty years 
ago amid tremendous applause, become true, be verified 
in its fullest sense, when he said: ''Standing hand to 
hand and clasping hands, we should remain united as we 70 
have been for sixty years, citizens of the same country, 
members of the same government, united, all united 
now and united forever." There have been difficulties, 
contentions, and controversies, but I tell you that in my 
judgment, 75 

"Those opened eyes, 

Which like the meteors of a troubled heaven, 

All of one nature, of one substance bred, 

Did lately meet in th' intestine shock, 

Shall now, in mutual well beseeming ranks, so 

March all one way." 



2^2 Southern Literary Readings 

THE FARMER'S HOME 
From "The Farmer and the Cities" 

A few Sundays ago I stood on a hill in Washington. 
My heart thrilled as I looked on the towering marble of my 
country's Capitol, and a mist gathered in my eyes as, 
standing there, I thought of its tremendous significance and 
.5 the powers there assembled, and the responsibilities there 
centered — its presidents, its congress, its courts, its gath- 
ered treasure, its army, its navy, and its sixty millions of 
citizens. It seemed to me the best and mightiest sight that 
the sun could find in its wheeling course — this majestic 

10 home of a Republic that has taught the world its best 
lessons of liberty — and I felt that if wisdom, and justice, 
and honor abided therein, the world would stand indebted 
to this temple on which my eyes rested, and in which the 
ark of my covenant was lodged for its final uplifting and 

15 regeneration. 

A few days later I visited a country home. A modest, 
quiet house sheltered by great trees and set in a circle of 
field and meadow, gracious with the promise of harvest — 
barns and cribs well filled and the old smoke-house odor- 

20 ous with treasure — the fragrance of pink and hollyhock 
mingling with the aroma of garden and orchard, and 

^ resonant with the hum of bees and poultry's busy clucking 
— inside the house, thrift, comfort, and that cleanliness 
that is next to godliness — the restful beds, the open 

25 fireplace, the books and papers, and the old clock that 
had held its steadfast pace amid the frolic of weddings, 
that had welcomed in steady measure the newborn babes 
of the family, and kept company with the watchers of the 
sick bed, and had ticked the solemn requiem of the dead; 

30 and the well-worn Bible that, thumbed by fingers long 
since stilled, and blurred with tears of eyes long since closed, 



The Farmer's Home . 2^3 

held the simple annals of the family, and the heart and 
conscience of the home. Outside stood the master, strong 
and wholesome and upright; wearing no man's collar; 
with no mortgage on his roof, and no lien on his ripening 35 
harvest; pitching his crops in his own wisdom, and selling 
them in his own time in his chosen market ; master of his 
lands and master of himself. Near by stood his aged 
father, happy in the heart and home of his son. And as 
they started to the house, the old man's hands rested on the 40 
young man's shoulder, touching it with the knighthood of 
the fourth commandment, and laying there the unspeak- 
able blessing of an honored and grateful father. As 
they drew near the door the old mother appeared; the 
sunset falling on her face, softening its wrinkles and its 45 
tenderness lighting up her patient eyes, and the rich music 
of her heart trembling on her lips, as in simple phrase she 
welcomed her husband and son to their home. Beyond 
was the good wife, true of touch and tender, happy amid 
her household cares, clean of heart and conscience, the 50 
helpmate and the buckler of her husband. And the 
children, strong and sturdy, trooping down the lane with 
the lowing herd, or weary of simple sport, seeking, as 
truant birds do, the quiet of the old home nest. And I 
saw the night descend on that home, falling gently as from 55 
the wings of the unseen dove. And the stars swarmed 
in the bending skies — the trees thrilled with the cricket's 
cry — the restless bird called from the neighboring wood — 
and the father, a simple man of God, gathering the family 
about him, read from the Bible the old, old story of love eo 
and faith, and then went down in prayer, the baby hidden 
amid the folds of its mother's dress, and closed the record 
of that simple day by calling down the benediction of God 
on the family and the home! 

And as I gazed the memory of the great Capitol faded os 



254 Southern Literary Readings 

from my brain. Forgotten its treasure and its splendor. 
And I said, "Surely here — here in the homes of the people 
is lodged the ark of the covenant of my country. Here 
is its majesty and its strength. Here the beginning of 

70 its power and the end of its responsibility." The homes 
of the people; let us keep them pure and independent, and 
all will be well with the Republic. Here is the lesson our 
foes may learn — here is work the humblest and weakest 
hands may do. Let us in simple thrift and economy make 

75 our homes independent. Let us in frugal industry make 
them self-sustaining. In sacrifice and denial let us keep 
them free from debt and obligation. Let us make them 
homes of refinement in which we shall teach our daughters 
that modesty and patience and gentleness are the charms 

80 of woman. Let us make them temples of liberty, and 
teach our sons that an honest conscience is every man's 
first political law. That his sovereignty rests beneath 
his hat, and that no splendor can rob him and no force 
justify the surrender of the simplest right of a free and 

85 independent citizen. And above all, let us honor God 
in our homes — anchor them close in His love; build His 
altars above our hearthstones, uphold them in the set and 
simple faith of our fathers and crown them with the Bible — 
that book of books in which all the ways of life are made 

90 straight and the mystery of death is made plain. The 
home is the source of our national life. Back of the 
national Capitol and above it stands the home. Back 
of the President and above him stands the citizen. What 
the home is, this and nothing else will the Capitol be. 

95 What the citizen wills, this and nothing else will the 
President be. 



The Wounded Soldier 255 

THE WOUNDED SOLDIER 

Peroration from the Speech on "The South and Her 
Problems" 

A few words for the young men of Texas. I am glad that 
I can speak to them at all. Men, especially young men, 
look back for their inspiration to what is best in their 
traditions. Thermopylae cast Spartan sentiments in 
heroic mould and sustained Spartan arms for more than 5 
a century. Thermopylae had survivors to tell the story 
of its defeat. The Alamo had none. Though voiceless 
it shall speak from its dumb walls. Liberty cried out to 
Texas, as God called from the clouds unto Moses. Bowie 
and Fanning, though dead still live. Their voices rang 10 
above the din of Goliad and the glory of San Jacinto, 
and they marched with the Texas veterans who rejoiced 
at the birth of Texas independence. It is the spirit of 
the Alamo that moved above the Texas soldiers as' they 
charged like demigods through a thousand battlefields, 15 
and it is the spirit of the Alamo that whispers from their 
graves held in every State of the Union, ennobling their 
dust, their soil, that was crimsoned with their blood. 

In the spirit of this inspiration and in the thrill of the 
amazing growth that surrounds you, my young friends, it 20 
will be strange if the young men of Texas do not carry the 
lone star into the heart of the struggle. The South needs 
her sons to-day more than when she summoned them to 
the forum to maintain her political supremacy, more than 
when the bugle called them to the field to defend issues 25 
put to the arbitrament of the sword. Her old body is 
instinct with appeal, calling on us to come and give her 
fuller independence than she has ever sought in field or 
forum. It is ours to show that as she prospered with 
slaves she shall prosper still more with freemen; ours to 30 



2^6 Southern Literary Readings 

see that from the Hsts she entered in poverty she shall 
emerge in prosperity ; ours to carry the transcending tradi- 
tions of the old South from which none of us can in honor 
or in reverence depart, unstained and unbroken into the 

35 new. Shall we fail? Shall the blood of the old South — 
the best strain that ever uplifted human endeavor — that 
ran like water at duty's call and never stained where it 
touched — shall this blood that pours into our veins 
through a century luminous with achievement, for the 

40 first time falter and be driven back from irresolute heat, 
when the old South, that left us a better heritage in man- 
liness and courage than in broad and rich acres, calls us to 
settle problems? 
A soldier lay wounded on a hard-fought field; the 

45 roar of the battle had died away, and he rested in the 
deadly stillness of its aftermath. Not a sound was heard 
as he lay there, sorely smitten and speechless, but the 
shriek of wounded and the sigh of the dying soul, as it 
escaped from the tumult of earth into the unspeakable 

50 peace of the stars. Off t>ver the field flickered the lanterns 
of the surgeons with the litter bearers, searching that 
they might take away those whose lives could be saved 
and leave in sorrow those who were doomed to die with 
pleading eyes through the darkness. This poor soldier 

55 watched, unable to turn or speak as the lanterns drew near. 
At last the light flashed in his face, and the surgeon, with 
kindly face, bent over him, hesitated a moment, shook 
his head, and was gone, leaving the poor fellow alone with 
death. He watched in patient agony as they went on from 

60 one part of the field to another. As they came back the 
surgeon bent over him again. "I believe if this poor 
fellow lives to sundown to-morrow he will get well." And 
again leaving him, not to death but with hope; all night 
long these words fell into his heart as the dews fell from 



The Wounded Soldier 257 

the stars upon his lips, "if he but Hves till sundown, he es 
will get well." He turned his weary head to the east and 
watched for the coming sun. At last the stars went out, 
the east trembled with radiance, and the sun, slowly 
lifting above the horizon, tinged his pallid face with flame. 
He watched it inch by inch as it climbed slowly up the 70 
heavens. He thought of life, its hopes and ambitions, 
its sweetness and its raptures, and he fortified his soul 
against despair until the sun had reached high noon. 
It sloped down its slow descent, and his life was ebbing 
away and his heart was faltering, and he needed stronger 75 
stimulants to make him stand the struggle until the end 
of the day had come. He thought of his far-off home, 
the blessed house resting in tranquil peace with the roses 
climbing to its door, and the trees whispering to its win- 
dows, and dozing in the sunshine, the orchard and the little 80 
brook running like a silver thread through the forest. 

''If I live till sundown I will see it again. I will walk 
down the shady lane: I will open the battered gate, and 
the mocking-bird shall call to me from the orchard, and 
I will drink again at the old mossy spring." ss 

And he thought of the wife who had come from the 
neighboring farmhouse and put her hand shyly in his, and 
brought sweetness to his life and light to his home. 

*'If I live till sundown I shall look once more into her 
deep and loving eyes and press her brown head once more 90 
to my aching breast." 

And he thought of the old father, patient in prayer, 
bending lower and lower every day under his load of sorrow 
and old age. 

"If I but live till sundown I shall see him again and 95 
wind my strong arm about his feeble body, and his hands 
shall rest upon my head while the unspeakable healing of 
his blessing falls into my heart." 

17 



2j8 Southern Literary Readings 

And he thought of the little children that clambered 

100 on his knees and tangled their little hands into his heart- 
strings, making to him such music as the world shall not 
equal or heaven surpass. 

** If I live till sundown, they shall again find my parched 
lips with their warm mouths, and their little fingers shall 

105 run once more over my face." 

And he then thought of his old mother, who gathered 
these children about her and breathed her old heart afresh 
in their brightness and attuned her old lips anew to their 
prattle, that she might live till her big boy came home. 

no ' * If I live till sundown I will see her again, and I will 
rest my head at my old place on her knees, and weep 
away all memory of this desolate night." And the Son 
of God, who had died for men, bending from the stars, put 
the hand that had been nailed to the cross on ebbing life 

115 and held on the staunch until the sun went down and the 

stars came out, and shone down in the brave man's heart 

and blurred in his glistening eyes, and the lanterns of the 

surgeons came, and he was taken from death to life. 

The world is a battlefield strewn with the wrecks of 

120 government and institutions, of theories and of faiths that 
have gone down in the ravage of years. On this field lies 
the South, sown with her problems. Upon the field swing 
the lanterns of God. Amid the carnage walks the Great 
Physician. Over the South he bends. "If ye but live 

125 until to-morrow's sundown ye shall endure, my country- 
men." Let us for her sake turn our faces to the east and 
watch as the soldier watched for the coming sun. Let us 
staunch her wounds and hold steadfast. The sun mounts 
the skies. As it descends to us, minister to her and stand 

130 constant at her side for the sake of our children, and 
of generations unborn that shall suffer if she fails. And 
when the sun has gone down and the day of her probation 



The Wounded Soldier 2^g 

has ended, and the stars have ralHed her heart, the lan- 
terns shall be swung over the field and the Great Physician 
shall lead her up, from trouble into content, from suf- 135 
fering into peace, from death to life. Let every man here 
pledge himself in this high and ardent hour, as I pledge 
myself and the boy that shall follow me ; every man him- 
self and his son, hand to hand and heart to heart, that in 
death and earnest loyalty, in patient painstaking and care, uo 
he shall watch her interest, advance her fortune, defend 
her fame and guard her honor as long as life shall last. 
Every man in the sound of my voice, under the deeper 
consecration he offers to the Union, will consecrate himself 
to the South. Have no ambition but to be first at her us 
feet and last at her service. No hope but, after a long life 
of devotion, to sink to sleep in her bosom, and as a little 
child sleeps at his mother's breast and rests untroubled 
in the light of her smile. 

With such consecrated service, what could we not accom- 150 
plish; what riches we should gather for her; what glory 
and prosperity we should render to the Union; what bless- 
ings we should gather unto the universal harvest of human- 
ity ! As I think of it, a vision of surpassing beauty unfolds 
to my eyes. I see a South, the home of fifty millions of 155 
people, who rise up every day to call from blessed cities, 
vast hives of industry and of thrift; her country-sides 
the treasures from which their resources are drawn; her 
streams vocal with whirring spindles ; her valleys tranquil 
in the white and gold of the harvest ; her mountains shower- leo 
ing down the music of bells, as her slow-moving flocks and 
herds go forth from their folds ; her rulers honest and her 
people loving, and her homes happy and their hearthstones 
bright, and their waters still, and their pastures green, and 
her conscience clear ; her wealth diffused and poor-houses les 
empty, her churches earnest and all creeds lost in the gospel ; 



26o Southern Literary Readings 

peace and sobriety walking hand in hand through her bor- 
ders; honor in her homes ; uprightness in her midst ; plenty 
in her fields; straight and simple faith in the hearts of 

170 her sons and daughters; her two races walking together 

in peace and contentment; sunshine everywhere and all 

the time, and night falling on her generally as from the 

wings of the unseen dove. 

All this, my country, and more can we do for you. As 

175 1 look the vision grows, the splendor deepens, the horizon 
falls back, the skies open their everlasting gates, and the 
glory of the Almighty God streams through as He looks 
down on His people who have given themselves unto Him 
and leads them from one triumph to another until they 

180 have reached a glory unspeakable, and the whirling stars, 
as in their courses through Arcturus they run to the 
milky way, shall not look down on a better people or 
happier land. 




JAMES LANE ALLEN 



From a photograph 



JAMES LANE ALLEN 

In the estimation of a host of cultured readers, James 
Lane Allen of Kentucky ranks to-day as the dean of Amer- 
ican story-writers. Undoubtedly, the place he has made 
for himself is well above that of the popular modern 
novelist. The reason for this is that Mr. Allen has always 
done his best and has never allowed himself to be hur- 
ried into print or spoiled by popular applause. He has 
worked slowly and published rarely. Written with pains- 
taking conscientiousness, all that he produces is marked 
by sureness of touch and elegance of finish bom of a deep 
love for his art and a commendable pride in perfect work- 
manship. He looks more carefully to the quality of his 
writing than to the number of pages he can publish in a 
year, and so it happens that whenever a new volume 
by him appears it is welcomed by thousands of eager, 
expectant readers. 

He was born near Lexington, Kentucky, December 21, 
1849. His ancestry was of that sturdy Virginia stock 
which moved westward to occupy the frontier in pioneer 
days. The estate upon which he was bom had long been 
held by his progenitors, and it was here that the boy 
learned to love that picturesque and beautiful Kentucky 
scenery which the man has since so faithfully and 
artistically transferred to his pages. He attended the 
preparatory department of the old Transylvania Univer- 
sity, now Kentucky University, and was graduated 
with honors at this institution in 1872. For about ten 
years he followed the profession of teaching, serving in 
several academic positions in both private and public 
schools, and finally attaining a professorship of English 
and Latin in Bethany College, West Virginia. Early in 
this period, through his essays and poems published in 
various magazines, he had begun to taste the joys of suc- 
cessful authorship, and to chafe under the uncertainties 
and exacting duties of teaching, and about the year 1884 

[261] 



262 Southern Literary Readings 

he decided to devote himself thenceforward to Hterature. 
Eventually he moved to New York, to be in the center 
of literary and publishing activities, and here he has 
firmly established himself as a professional literary man. 
Among his first publications was a series of articles on the 
Cumberland and Blue Grass regions of Kentucky, but 
it was in those beautiful and poetic, if somewhat melan- 
choly and pathetic, tales of Kentucky, Flute and Violin, 
Sister Dolorosa, The White Cowl, Two Gentlemen oj 
Kentucky, and others, that he first struck a rich vein 
of fresh and original material. These were published in 
1 89 1 under the title of the first story named, and the 
volume which they formed was immediately hailed as a 
classic in the new type of American short story, and 
has since held its place as a permanent contribution to 
American fiction. 

But the most popular book that Mr. Allen has written — 
and many of his admirers think he has never surpassed it 
nor ever will — is A Kentucky Cardinal, which began as a 
short serial in Harper's Magazine in 1893 and was published 
as a novelette in 1894. Professor Henneman in his 
admirable study of James Lane Allen in Southern Writers 
calls it "a pastoral poem in prose, noting the procession of 
the seasons ' ' ; and he adds : " Here was the heart of Nature 
laid bare; here wrote a novelist who at the same time 
was a disciple of Thoreau and Audubon." Aftermath is a 
beautiful though sad conclusion to this exquisite love story, 
but it has never attained the popular approval accorded 
to A Kentucky Cardinal. 

Other long stories, broader in theme but not more 
charming in style, have followed at infrequent intervals. 
The Choir Invisible, another popular favorite, appeared in 
1897, but it was based on an earlier story, John Gray, 
published in 1892. The Reign of Law came in 1900, The 
Mettle of the Pasture in 1903, The Bride of the Mistletoe 
in 1909, The Brood of the Eagle in 19 10, and The Heroine 
in Bronze in 191 2. While many readers do not find in 
these later productions the fulfillment of the promise of 
his earlier work, no one can deny his power, and there 
are some who would rank him with Hawthorne and Poe 
as one of the supremely great American artists in prose. 



James Lane Allen 263 

There is certainly a distinct charm in everything that 
Mr. Allen writes. There is something in the flow of his 
words, something in the quaUty of his style, which pleases 
not only the ear but the heart. Not all of his ideas are 
commendable, and there is sometimes a certain morbid- 
ness in some of his themes; but there is nothing pedantic, 
nothing unmusical, nothing abrupt in his pages. The 
prose moves along almost with the rhythm of verse; in 
fact, the poetic element predominates. There is a wealth 
of exquisitely wrought imagery in his outdoor pictures. 
One would say that he excels in imagination and pictorial 
power. He sees clearly, and draws the outlines of his 
picture firmly, filling in the detail with a deft and delicate 
touch. The sunlight fairly dances over his landscapes. 
The many-peaked clouds become wandering Alps; the 
cold brook creeps over the gray-mossed rocks; Nature 
walks abroad as though to salute some imperial presence; 
a hundred green boughs wave on every side; a hundred 
floating odors rise ; the flash and rush of bright wings catch 
the eye ; and the sweet confusion of innumerable melodies 
soothes the tired mind. Surely no present-day writer has 
come nearer to Nature's heart than James Lane Allen. 

(The essay by the late John Bell Henneman in Southern Writers^ 
Vol. II, is by far the best study of James Lane Allen's work that 
has yet been published.) 



EARTH SHIELD AND EARTH FESTIVAL 

A mighty table-land lies southward in a hardy region of 
our country. It has the form of a colossal Shield, lacking 
and broken in some of its outlines and rough and rude of 
make. Nature forged it for some crisis in her long warfare 

5 of time and change, made use of it, and so left it Ij^ng as 
one of her ancient battle-pieces — Kentucky. 

The great Shield is raised high out of the earth at one 
end and sunk deep into it at the other. It is tilted away 
from the dawn toward the sunset. Where the western dip 

10 of it reposes on the planet, Nature, cunning artificer, set 
the stream of ocean flowing past with restless foam — 
the Father of Waters. Along the edge for a space she 
bound a bright river to the rim of silver. And where the 
eastern part rises loftiest on the horizon, turned away from 

15 the reddening daybreak, she piled shaggy mountains 
wooded with trees that loose their leaves ere snowflakes 
fly and with steadfast evergreens which hold to theirs 
through the gladdening and the saddening year. Then 
crosswise over the middle of the Shield, northward and 

20 southward upon the breadth of it, covering the life-bom 
rock of many thicknesses, she drew a tough skin of verdure 
— a broad strip of hide of the ever growing grass. She 
embossed noble forests on this greensward and under the 
forests drew clear waters. 

25 This she did in a time of which we know nothing — 
uncharted ages before man had emerged from the deeps 
of ocean with eyes to wonder, thoughts to wander, heart to 
love, and spirit to pray. Many a scene the same power has 
wrought out upon the surface of the Shield since she brought 

[264] 



Earth Shield and Earth Festival 265 

him forth and set him there : many an old one, many a new. 30 
She has made it sometimes a Shield of war, sometimes a 
Shield of peace. Nor has she yet finished with its destinies 
as she has not yet finished with anything in the universe. 
While therefore she continues her will and pleasure else- 
where throughout creation, she does not forget the Shield. 35 

She likes sometimes to set upon it scenes which admon- 
ish man how little his lot has changed since Hephaistos 
wrought like scenes upon the shield of Achilles, and Thetis 
of the silver feet sprang like a falcon from snowy Olympus 
bearing the glittering piece of armor to her angered son. 40 

These are some of the scenes that were wrought on the 
shield of Achilles and that to-day are spread over the 
Earth Shield Kentucky : 

Espousals and marriage feasts and the blaze of lights 
as they lead the bride from her chamber, flutes and 45 
violins sounding merrily. An assembly-place where the 
people are gathered, a strife having arisen about the blood- 
price of a man slain; the old lawyers stand up one after 
another and make their tangled arguments in turn. Soft, 
freshly ploughed fields where ploughmen drive their teams so 
to and fro, the earth growing dark behind the share. The 
estate of a landowner where laborers are reaping; some 
armfuls the binders are binding with twisted bands of 
straw: among them the farmer is standing in silence, 
leaning on his staff, rejoicing in his heart. Vineyards with 55 
purpling clusters and happy folk gathering these in plaited . 
baskets on sunny afternoons. A herd of cattle with in- 
curved horns hurrying from the stable to the woods where 
there is running water and where purple-topped weeds 
bend above the sleek grass. A fair glen with white sheep, eo 
A dancing-place under the trees; girls and young men 
dancing, their fingers on one another's wrists: a great 
company stands watching the lovely dance of joy. 



266 Southern Literary Readings 

Such pageants appeared on the shield of Achilles as 

65 art ; as pageants of life they appear on the Earth Shield 
Kentucky. The metal-worker of old wrought them upon 
the armor of the Greek warrior in tin and silver, bronze 
and gold. The world-designer sets them to-day on the 
throbbing land in nerve and blood, toil and delight and pas- 

70 sion. But there with the old things she mingles new things, 
with the never changing the ever changing ; for the old that 
remains always the new and the new that perpetually be- 
comes old — these Nature allots to man as his two portions 
wherewith he must abide steadfast in what he is and go 

75 upward or go downward through all that he is to become. 

But of the many scenes which she in our time sets forth 

upon the stately grassy Shield there is a single spectacle 

that she spreads over the length and breadth of it once 

every year now as best liked by the entire people ; and this 

80 is both old and new. 

It is old because it contains man's faith in his immor- 
tality, which was venerable with age before the shield of 
Achilles ever grew effulgent before the sightless orbs of 
Homer. It is new because it contains those latest hopes 

85 and reasons for this faith, which briefly blossom out upon 
the primitive stock with the altering years and soon are 
blown away upon the winds of change. Since this spec- 
tacle, this festival, is thus old and is thus new and thus 
enwraps the deepest thing in the human spirit, it is never 

90 forgotten. 

When in vernal days any one turns a furrow or sows 
in the teeth of the wind and glances at the fickle sky; when 
under the summer shade of a flowering tree any one looks 
out upon his fatted herds and fattening grain; whether 

96 there is autumnal plenty in his bam or autumnal empti- 
ness, autumnal peace in his breast or autumnal strife, — all 
days of the year, in the assembly-place, in the dancing- 



Earth Shield and Earth Festival 26^ 

place, whatsoever of good or ill befall in mind or hand, 
never does one forget. 

When nights are darkest and days most dark; when the 100 
sun seems farthest from the planet and cheers it with low- 
est heat; when the fields lie shorn between harvest-time 
and seed-time and man turns wistful eyes back and forth 
between the mystery of his origin and the mystery of his 
end, — then comes the great pageant of the winter solstice, 105 
then comes Christmas. 

So what is Christmas? And what for centuries has it 
been to differing but always identical mortals ? 

It was once the old pagan festival of dead Nature. 
It was once the old pagan festival of the reappearing sun. no 
It was the pagan festival when the hands of labor took their 
rest and hunger took its filL It was the pagan festival 
to honor the descent of the fabled inhabitants of an upper 
world upon the earth, their commerce with common flesh, 
and the production of a race of divine-and-human half- 115 
breeds. It is now the festival of the Immortal Child 
appearing in the midst of mortal children. It is now the 
new festival of man's remembrance of his errors and his 
charity toward erring neighbors. It has latterly become 
the widening festival of universal brotherhood with succor 120 
for all need and nighness to all suffering ; of good will war- 
ring against ill will and of peace warring upon war. 

And thus for all who have anywhere come to know it, 
Christmas is the festival of the better worldly self. But 
better than worldliness, it is on the Shield to-day what it 12s 
essentially has been through many an age to many people 
— the symbolic Earth Festival of the Evergreen; setting 
forth man's pathetic love of youth — of his own youth that 
will not stay with him; and renewing his faith in a destiny 
that winds its ancient way upward out of dark and damp 130 
toward Eternal Light. 



JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 

One of the foremost of recent American authors is, 
undoubtedly, Joel Chandler Harris. He won his place 
by simple and unassuming methods of composition, by 
keen observation of man and nature, by the richness and 
profound quality of his humor and his pathos, by the 
sane and healthful philosophy of life which he expounds, 
and by his great creative power — the power to mold into 
permanent artistic form the simple, homely material with 
which he deals. That Uncle Remus and Miss Sally and 
Miss Sally's little boy, with all their human and their 
animal friends, go to make up one of the supreme creations 
in American literature is not to be denied. 

Joel Chandler Harris was bom December 8, 1848, in 
Putnam County, Georgia. His was a humble country 
home near the little town of Eatonton, almost in the 
exact center of the state. He received an inadequate 
education in the rural schools and in Eatonton Academy. 
When he was about fourteen years of age he read the 
advertisement, "Wanted, boy to learn the printer's trade." 
He applied for and secured the position on the Coun- 
tryman, a journal modeled somewhat upon Addison's 
Spectator, and edited and published by Mr. J. A. Turner on 
his plantation in Putnam County. Here Joel learned to 
do all the work of a printer's devil in a country printing 
office. In time he became a printer and proofreader, and 
then he began to send in contributions under assumed 
names, and finally signed articles. He received constant 
encouragement from his employer, and in a book called On 
the Plantation, written many years later and dedicated to 
Mr. Turner, he has given his own experiences during this 
formative period, weaving fact and fiction into a wonder- 
fully suggestive and attractive representation of life on an 
old-time Georgia plantation. In this book there are ex- 
cellent descriptions, profound but simple character studies 
of many Southern types, incidents and tales of country life, 

[268] 




From a photograph by Francis Benjamin Johnston 
JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 



Joel Chandler Harris 26g 

and illuminating comment on events just prior to and coin- 
cident with the Civil War period. The hero of the story, 
Joe Maxwell, is none other than the author himself. At 
the conclusion of this book Mr. Harris says : ' 'A larger world 
beckoned to Joe Maxwell, and he went out into it. And 
it came about that on every side he found loving hearts 
to comfort him and strong and friendly hands to guide 
him. He found new associations and formed new ties. In 
a humble way he made a name for himself, but the old 
plantation days still live in his dreams." The old plan- 
tation days live not only in the dreams of Mr. Harris, but 
also in the dreams of his delighted readers the world over, 
and there are many who think that it is no very humble 
place that he made for himself in the world, for he lives in 
the hearts of all those who know his books or who have 
in any way come in touch with the man. 

Sherman's army swept away the Countryman, with 
many other good things in the Old South, but nothing could 
rob young Joel Harris of the valuable experiences and 
the broadening education he had received in Mr. Turner's 
library and printing office. The boy had always loved to 
read, and when he was allowed free access to his employer's 
excellent collection of books and periodicals he made good 
use of the opportunity. Carlyle has said that "the true 
imiversity of these days is a collection of books," and 
this library, together with the varied experiences in the 
outdoor world and among the good people of the Georgia 
countryside, was the only university education Joel 
Chandler Harris ever received. Among the books which 
he read and ever afterward held closest to his heart were 
The Vicar of Wakefield, Ivanhoe, and Vanity Fair. Later 
in life the Bible and Shakspere were added to these 
early favorites, but nothing could ever make him admit 
that he loved any book better than he loved The Vicar 
of Wakefield. 

There is little of the marvelous in the story of this simple 
country lad. He grew up among the red hills and green 
dales of central Georgia, and learned to know intimately 
all the animals and fowls of barnyard, field, and forest, as 
he has well proved by his later works. He was just an 
ordinary boy, living an ordinary life, but he so used his 



2^/0 Southern Literary Readings 

faculties and opportunities and so idealized his common- 
place experiences as to make them highly valuable and 
attractive to his fellow men. Some one has said that 
Harris is a real benefactor to humanity, for he has given to 
many thousands of children their first taste for nature 
study. Nothing but genius and love for humankind could 
have made of these simple incidents and experiences of 
everyday life so noteworthy a contribution to the intellec- 
tual life of our country. Joel Chandler Harris's life story 
contains no more than the usual happenings in the progress 
of a journeyman newspaper man or journalist, and the 
main facts we have to tell of him are that he worked on 
various newspapers and journals, that he did conscien- 
tiously his daily portion of work, and that he sought 
retirement and domestic happiness rather than notoriety 
and popular applause. But all the while, he was gradually 
turning his memories, his experiences, and his imaginings 
into what we believe to be permanent literary form, and 
he gave to the world freely of the best that was in him. 

After the war Mr. Harris was for a time connected with 
the Macon Daily Telegraph, Then he became secretary 
to the editor of the Crescent Monthly in New Orleans, and 
later editor of the Advertiser, a weekly paper in Forsythe, 
Georgia. In 187 1 he went to Savannah, to become a 
reporter on the staff of the Daily Times, and here he met 
Miss La Rose, the daughter of a French Canadian seaman, 
who became his wife. Shortly after his marriage an 
epidemic of yellow fever in Savannah caused him to seek 
employment elsewhere, and he went in 1876 to Atlanta, 
to join the editorial staff of the Constitution, For more 
than twenty-five years he continued in active work on 
this paper, making for himself an enviable place among 
the newspaper men of the South. 

It was while he was serving on the Constitution that his 
first opportunity for permanent literary work came, though 
at the time neither he nor anybody else recognized it 
as such. One of the regular contributors who had been 
writing negro-dialect sketches for the paper retired, and 
Mr. Harris was asked to supply the deficiency thus 
created. He began then, under the nom-de- plume of Uncle 
Remus, to put upon paper the stories heard in his youth 



Joel Chandler Harris 2yi 

on the plantation, which have since made him famous 
the world over. In 1881 his first book, Uncle Remus, His 
Songs and His Sayings, appeared, and in 1883 his Nights 
with Uncle Remus followed. These, with other later works 
along the same line, form the most notable contributions 
to the field of negro folklore this country has ever pro- 
duced. Who of us has not enjoyed — laughing and crying 
by turns — dear old Uncle Remus and the quaint stories 
he told to the little boy who lived up at the big house 
with Miss Sally and Marse John — stories about Brer Fox 
and Brer Rabbit and Brer Bar and Brer Mudturkle, and 
all those wonderful people of the woods and fields ? Their 
conversation is so true to life, so natural, and in such per- 
fect keeping with the characters portrayed and the scenes 
described that we do not detect a single false note. 

Besides his Uncle Remus stories, Mr. Harris wrote 
novels, short stories, negro sketches, fairy tales, and dia- 
lect poems and melodies, all of which are excellent. He 
retired from active newspaper work about the turn of 
the century, in order to devote his time entirely to the 
more attractive pursuit of literature in his own peculiar 
vein. He worked the old leads and opened new ones 
which he had in mind, writing on uninterruptedly until 
1907, when he again entered the field of journalism with 
his Uncle Remus' s Magazine. This is a monthly journal, 
which he edited and to which he was by far the largest 
contributor until his death, July 3, 1908. 

Whatever Mr. Harris's rank among the world's writers 
of fiction may be, we Southerners take him to ourselves 
as a friend whom we have known and loved, as one who 
has felt and seen and preserved in his works a large part 
of the poetic simplicity and romanticism attached to our 
Southland. He was not the painter of mighty canvasses 
of heroic deeds, but a careful worker in black and white, 
touchingly calling forth home scenes and home charac- 
ters. We would hang his simple sketches, as it were, all 
about us in our living rooms rather than in our reception 
halls or front parlors. 

(Appreciative essays on Joel Chandler Harris may be found in 
W. M. Baskervill's Southern Writers, Vol. I, and in The Library of 
Southern Literature, Vol. V.) 



THE TALE OF THE CRYSTAL BELL 

Once upon a time, in a far country, there lived a 
little girl named Lizette. She was a very sweet little 
girl, bright, clever, and kind-hearted. Her . father and 
mother were very poor. In the cold weather they eked 

5 out a scanty living by gathering the dead branches of trees 
in the forest, and selling them to their more prosperous 
neighbours, who used them as fuel. In the spring Lizette's 
father and mother gathered herbs and simples and sold 
them to the apothecary in the neighbouring village. In 

10 the summer they helped their neighbours with their crops, 
and in the fall they helped to gather grapes. 

This was the season that Lizette loved, for at that 
time all the youths and maidens assembled in the vine- 
yards and played and sang even while they were at work. 

15 And at the close of the day, especially when the round 
moon was peeping at them through the trees, Merry 
Hans, of Hendon, would play on his flute while the others 
danced. At such times it frequently happened that the 
lords and ladies from the castles near by would come in 

20 their fine coaches and watch the merry-making. 

All the workers in the fields and vineyards were poor, 
but Lizette's father and mother were the poorest of all. 
They were the poorest, but they were just as happy as 
any of the rest, for they'had their pretty little daughter, 

25 they had their health, and they had good appetites, and 
sound sleep visited them when the day was over. They 
had few troubles and no sorrows, save as they were called 
upon to sympathise with such of their neighbours as had 
illness or death in the house. 

[272] 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 275 

Never believe that poverty means unhappiness or 30 
sour discontent. It is the poor who are generous and 
charitable, and it is the honest poor who have the sound- 
est sleep and the healthiest minds. Thus it was with 
the father and mother of Lizette. They were not only 
contented, but they were thankful their condition was no 35 
worse. But as their little daughter grew older and more 
beautiful they often wished that they were able to give 
her the accomplishments that would fit her beauty and 
her brightness. 

When she heard them expressing their regrets that 40 
they were too poor to do as much for her as they could 
wish, she would shake her head and laugh, saying, "If I 
had all the accompHshments you desire me to have, I am 
afraid I should be discontented here. It is better as it 
is. I can sing as loud and dance as long as any of the 45 
children; I have a good frock for Sunday; and though, 
as we know, the times are hard, it is not often that I am 
hungry." 

The father and mother said nothing, but they thought 
to themselves that the sweet disposition of their child 50 
was only another reason why she should fare better than 
they had fared. Old people, as you will discover, live 
life over again in the lives of their children. But these 
old people had no way to carry out their desires. They 
could only sigh when they thought that their lovely 55 
child would have to follow in their footsteps. They 
sighed, but they were not unhappy. Ever3rthing would 
be as a higher Power willed, and with this they were 
content. 

Meanwhile Lizette was growing more beautiful dayeo 
by day. The colour of the sky was reflected in her eyes, 
and the sunshine was caught and held in the meshes of 
her golden hair. Her frock was scanty and coarse, but 

18 



2'/4 Southern Literary Readings 

somehow she wore her ragged frock and her wooden shoes 

65 in a way that made one forget these signs of poverty. 

The young girl enjoyed the singing and the dancing 

when the grapes were gathered ; indeed, her feet were the 

nimblest, and her voice the sweetest; but her greatest 

pleasure was to ramble about in the great forest near 

70 which she lived. The opportunity for this came on 
Sunday afternoons and on the feast days of the saints. 
At such times she could always be found in the forest, 
and here she was at home in the truest sense. She talked 
to the trees in a famihar way, and she was sure they under- 

75 stood her, for their boughs would wave and their leaves 
flutter when she spoke to them ; and when a sudden storm 
came up they would shelter her with their foliage. She 
knew the birds, and the birds knew her, and they were 
so fond of her that they never made any loud outcry 

80 when she came near their nests. They had known her 
ever since she could toddle about, for she used to wander 
in the forest even when she was very small. 

Indeed, the forest 'had been her nurse. When her 
father and mother, in earning their scanty living, were 

85 compelled to go away from home, they always went 
away satisfied that she would be cared for in some way. 
Left alone, she would toddle off into the woods, and when 
she grew tired of looking at the birds and the big butter- 
flies that fluttered over the wild flowers, she would stretch 

90 herself on the grass under the sheltering arms of a wild 
thorn, or in a bower made by the woodbine, and there 
sleep as sweetly and as soundly as if she were rocked in 
the richest of cradles. As she grew older she continued 
to ramble in the forest. In some mysterious way she 

95 seemed to absorb its freshness and its beauty, and she 
imbibed the innocence of the wild creatures who came to 
know her as one of their companions. And as she grew 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 275 

in beauty she grew in strength, and her strength gave her 
gentleness. Her eyes shone with dewy tenderness, and 
the story they told could be understood even by a wounded 100 
bird that lay panting in her path, or by any creature that 
was seeking refuge or succour. 

One day — it was in the opening month of spring — 
" while Lizette was rambling about in her beloved forest 
admiring the flowers that were beginning to bloom, 105 
and making believe to catch the butterflies, though every 
butterfly in the forest knew better than that — she saw a 
very large one hovering near her. More than once she 
reached out her hand to take it, but it was always just 
out of reach. It was the largest and most beautiful no 
butterfly she had ever seen. It had tremendous wings, 
marked in black and gold, though when the sun shone 
on them the black changed to purple in the light. 

Something in the movements of this butterfly com- 
pelled her to watch it, and after a while she thought it 115 
was acting in a very singular way. When she went 
forward the butterfly seemed to be contented, but when 
she paused or turned aside from the course in which she 
had been going, it fluttered about her head and face and 
played such pranks that anyone but the tender Lizette 120 
would have been annoyed. More than once she play- 
fully tried to catch it, but at such times it was always 
just out of reach. 

Knowing the birds and the butterflies better than 
most people, Lizette came to the conclusion after a while 125 
that this particular butterfly meant something by its 
antics, so she went in the direction which it seemed to 
desire her to go. Flying before her and darting about, 
now to the right, now to the left, but always leading in 
one direction, the butterfly went far into the forest. And 130 
presently Lizette forgot all about the butterfly, for there 



2y6 Southern Literary Readings 

before her, lying prone on the ground, was an old woman. 
She seemed to be very ill or dying, and she presented 
a very pitiable spectacle. Her grey hair was hanging 

135 from under her head-covering, and her clothing was 
nothing but a collection of patches. She was groaning 
and moaning, and appeared to be in a terrible plight. 

As soon as she saw the deplorable condition of the 
old woman, and heard her moans and groans, Lizette 

140 ran forward, kneeled on the ground beside the unfor- 
tunate creature, stroked her hair away from her face, and 
tried to find out what the trouble was. 

The old woman opened her eyes and made a hideous 
face at the young girl. "You are trying to rob me," she 

145 cried, *'and you are over-young to be a thief." 

"I rob you, grandmother!" exclaimed Lizette, blush- 
ing at the unexpected charge. Then, remembering the 
pitiable condition of the old woman, she said, "We will 
talk about it when you are better. First tell me what 

150 the trouble is." She took the old woman's head in her 
lap, in spite of the ugfy faces she made, and did her best 
to soothe and comfort her. 

But the old woman would not be soothed. She con- 
tinued to charge Lizette with robbing her, and tried to 

155 drive her away. But the young girl was too tender- 
hearted to be driven. She could hardly restrain her 
tears at the repeated charges of the old woman, but she 
continued to do the best she could for her, which was 
very little, since the poor old creature refused to say where 

160 she was hurt or how. Between her moans and groans 
she made faces at Lizette, continued to call her a thief, 
and did everything she could to drive her away. 

But the child would not leave her. She swallowed her 
mortification the best she could, and continued to minister 

165 to the old woman, although she knew not what to do. 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 277 

Finally she thought she saw a change come over the 
old woman's face. Her features grew more composed, 
and it was high time, for when her countenance was 
puckered up with pain, or when she was making grimaces 
at Lizette, she was not pretty by any means. She ceased 170 
to groan and moan, and presently when her countenance 
was smoothed out, and the wrinkles had disappeared, 
she was a very pleasant-looking old woman. 

Wonderful to relate, she grew younger as Lizette 
caressed her. Her hair ceased to be grey, the patches dis- 175 
appeared from her clothes, her withered cheeks and hands 
filled out and became plump, and when she arose to her 
feet, which she did in no long time, she was as beautiful as 
a dream. Her hair, which had seemed to be grey, shone 
like spun silver, and her clothing, which had seemed so iso 
old and ragged, glittered in the sunshine like satin. 

"Oh, how could I think that one so beautiful was old 
and ugly!" cried Lizette. 

"Stranger things than that happen every day," replied 
the beautiful creature. "I was old and ugly when 1 185 
caused you to be brought here, but now I am what your 
good heart has made me; this is what your kindness has 
done." 

"But you called me a thief," said Lizette, blushing at 
the remembrance of the harsh things the pretended old m 
woman had said about her. 

"My dear, that was the result of a bargain I had made. 
We have our little disputes and differences in the country 
that is all about you, but which you are not permitted 
to see. I, for one, have been watching. you since your 195 
birth, and when I saw you the other day tenderly nursing 
a poor wounded butterfly which had been chilled by the 
night air, I said that you were as good as you are beauti- 
ful." At this Lizette blushed again, but this time from 



2^/8 Southern Literary Readings 

200 pleasure. "The remark was overheard by a friend of 
mine who has a very good disposition, but who is some- 
what suspicious of the good qualities that are sometimes 
ascribed to mortals. 

**She has a good deal of power, too, this friend of mine, 

205 for some day, the day when the moon changes at seven 
minutes past seven o'clock on Friday, she will be the queen 
of our small kingdom. And so when I insisted that you 
were as good as you are beautiful she proposed a test. 
This test is what you have just witnessed. I became an 

210 old woman, and it was part of the test that I should do 
my best to make you angry. I was to try to frighten 
you with my grimaces, and I was to call you a thief, and 
all sorts of ugly names, and if you had gone away in a 
fit of anger I should have been compelled to remain an 

215 old woman and go about in rags for five and two years. 

"You see how much I trusted to your sweet temper and 

your kind heart. I was a little frightened for myself 

when you were about to cry, but I soon saw that your 

good heart would triumph over your pride. It was a trial 

220 for you, and, as a reward, I have something for you." 

From under her shining mantle she drew a tiny casket, 
covered with rich-looking cloth, plush or velvet. Touch- 
ing a spring, the lid of the casket flew up, disclosing a 
crystal bell, which was suspended from a little rod of gold, 

225 the two ends of which rested on the inner frame of the 
casket. It was a beautiful bell in a lovely setting. It 
glistened in the sun like a large diamond, and in that day 
there was no jeweller so expert that he could have told 
it was not a diamond. 

230 "This bell," said the fairy — Lizette had already recog- 
nized the beautiful creature as a fairy whose good deeds 
the older people were always praising — "is a magic bell. 
It has no clapper, and yet it will ring. There is a little 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 2yg 

hammer in the bottom of the casket, and this will rise 
and strike the bell when the time has come to warn you 235 
of some danger that threatens you or those you love. I 
have here a chain for the casket, and you must wear it 
always around your neck." 

Lizette's heart was so full of gratitude that she knew 
not what to say ; but her feelings shone in her beautiful 240 
eyes, and the good fairy understood her just as well as 
if she had spoken in the most eloquent manner. *'I 
will wear it next my heart," said the young girl when she 
had fotind her voice, "and I shall remember your great 
kindness always. I do not know what I have done to 245 
deserve it." 

"Do you remember a time when you found a butterfly 
caught in a spider's web ? I 'm sure you do, for it was not 
so very long ago. The spider was a very large and fierce 
one, and he would have made short work of the poor 250 
butterfly, entangled as it was in the strong web. You 
remember, too, how carefully you released the butterfly, 
and how tenderly you handled the poor thing when once 
it was free from the web. You will be surprised to learn 
that there was no butterfly in the web, and no spider to 255 
devour her. What seemed to be a butterfly was no other 
than myself, and the spider was an unfriendly fairy, who 
lives under another queen, and who, for some reason or 
other, has taken a strong dislike to the fairies who inhabit 
this wood. 260 

"You will think it strange that a fairy who can change 
her shape at will should remain a butterfly when caught in 
a spider's web. But the most gifted fairy cannot change 
her shape when she is brought in contact with things that 
perish. You tried to kill the spider; and it would have 205 
been a good thing for both of us if you had succeeded; 
but, at any rate, you rescued me, and since you have 



28o Southern Literary Readings 

stood the required test, I think you have nothing to fear 
from the ugly-tempered fairy who took the shape of a 

270 spider to destroy me. 

"You will have trials, and you will be alarmed, but you 
must remember all the time that nothing but unselfish- 
ness and innocence will preserve you. I do not say that 
you will get everything you desire, because that would be 

275 impossible if you [should] become proud or vain or ambi- 
tious, but if you continue to be good and charitable and 
modest you will have what is best for you in this world." 
"I am sure," said Lizette, with tears in her eyes, "that 
I already have more than I deserve, since I have your 

280 friendship. I ask nothing more than to be as I have been, 
and to continue to deserve the good opinion of my friends 
and the Little People to whom you belong." 

The good fairy made no reply to this, but rose from the 
ground, her garments shining with all the colours of 

285 the rainbow, and her hair shining like the rays of the har- 
vest moon. "Remember the crystal bell," she said as 
she floated upward, and her voice sounded like a strain 
of beautiful music heard from afar. "Heed its warnings; 
but when it strikes as the chimes do, remember that 

290 good luck is waiting in the road for you." 

The beautiful fairy rose higher in the air, and began to 
wave the corners of her rich mantle, and in a moment 
her shape had changed to that of the butterfly that had 
led Lizette to the old woman in the forest, and the comers 

295 of the mantle were the butterfly's wings. She floated 
downward again, and, circling playfully around the young 
girl's head, touched her lightly on the cheek with her 
brilliant wings, and Lizette knew that it was intended for 
a caress. 

300 Circling higher and higher the fairy disappeared in the 
forest, and Lizette standing in the path, and looking 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 281 

after her benefactor, felt that she had been dreaming. ■ 
Indeed, she would have been certain it was all a dream 
but for the fact that she could feel the casket in her bosom. 

And yet, while she was talking to the fairy, everything 305 
that happened seemed to be perfectly natural. She was 
somewhat surprised, of course, but no more so than she had 
often been at the various happenings in the everyday world 
around her. But, now that it was all over, and she had 
time to reflect over it, her astonishment knew no bounds. 310 
She wondered, too, if she had thanked the good fairy in the 
proper manner, and then she remembered that the words 
she wanted to say had refused' to come at her bidding, and 
she thought, with a feeling of shame, that the fairy, who 
had been so kind, must look upon her as very stupid. 31s 

In spite of this feeling, however, she went home feeling 
very happy. She ran part of the way, so eager was she 
to tell her father and mother of her good fortune. Lizette's 
story was hard to believe, but then the old people had 
heard of fairies all their lives. More than that, it was s2o 
easier to believe things in those days than it is now. 
Nevertheless, the father and mother sat by the hearth 
that night a long time after their daughter had gone to 
bed, and wondered, as parents will, whether the vision 
their child had seen was not an evil spirit. Even the 325 
best-educated people had some decided views about evil 
spirits in those days, and among those who were ignorant 
such ideas were as real as any belief they had. Lizette's 
father was seriously inclined to take the casket, bell, and 
all, and bury it deep in the ground, so that the spell, if 330 
it was a spell, could do their daughter no harm. But 
the mother, more practical in her views, refused to listen 
to this. She argued that if the vision Lizette had seen 
was an evil spirit, it would be useless to try to escape the 
charm that had been laid on her, while, on the other hand, 33s 



282 Southern Literary Readings 

if Lizette had really seen a good fairy, it could not help 
matters to bury her gift. 

Nothing of all this talk was told to their daughter, 
and the young girl never knew how near she was to losing 

840 the precious gift of the fairy. She dreamed the most 
beautiful dreams while she was sleeping, but when she 
awoke, she heard the crystal bell sounding a warning. 
She threw on her clothes in a hurry, and all the while 
she was dressing, the bell continued to strike. Just as she 

345 was ready to help her mother with breakfast, she heard a 
loud knocking at their humble door, and when the door 
was opened, she heard the voice of an old woman asking 
her mother if she had a daughter. Peeping through a 
crack in her own door, Lizette saw the old woman, and 

350 she was as ugly a hag as one would wish to see in a day's 
journey. Her face held a thousand wrinkles, her skin 
was yellow, and two of her teeth protruded from her 
upper lip like the tusks of some wild animals. 

"Where, then, is this daughter of yours?" the old crone 

355 asked harshly. « 

"She is at hand when those who have the right desire 
to see her," replied Lizette's mother. "I will answer for 
her, and you may speak to me." 

"She will be spoken to by those who have something 

360 more than the right," replied the old woman, with a 
cackling laugh. "Our good Prince Palermon, who was 
riding through the forest yesterday, lost a casket which 
had been given to him by his mother. Search has been 
made far and wide, and it is still going on. It is now 

365 supposed that someone, in passing through the forest, 
has found it, and, not knowing the value, has concluded 
to keep it as a curiosity. By chance, I saw your daughter 
walking in the forest yesterday, and have an idea that she 
has the casket. If she will give it to me, it will be returned 



I 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 28 j 

to the Prince, and she may get a reward, but if not, nothing 370 
will be said about it. If she has hidden it, or if she tries 

to keep it " Here the old crone made a horrible 

grimace, and made a motion as if the affair would be a 
hanging matter. 

The husband and father had already gone to his work 375 
in the fields, and the mother knew not what to do. She 
had no idea that her daughter had told her a falsehood 
about the casket; and yet, how did this old woman know * 
about it? Being a simple-minded woman, she was quite 
puzzled as to the wisest course to take ; but she remem- sso 
bered that her daughter had got along very well without 
the casket all the days of her life, and so she said to the 
old crone : 

"My daughter has the casket, and when the Prince 
comes, or someone who represents him, it shall be returned sss 
to him. You may tell him this for me." 

"And do you suppose that the illustrious Prince will 
condescend to come to this hovel, or lower himself to send 
for what belongs to him? If you do, you are mightily 
mistaken. The casket will be sent for, be sure of that — 390 
but I shouldn't like to be caught in this house when the 
messenger comes." The old crone cackled as she said 
this, and was for going away, but Lizette's mother, now 
thoroughly frightened, told her to wait a moment, and she 
would get the casket. "Aha!" cried the hag; "you are 395 
coming to your senses, I see! And it is very well for you 
and your daughter that you are. It will save you much 
trouble now and in the days to come." 

Now, while her mother was talking to this old crone, 
Lizette was standing at the door of her room listening, 400 
and all the time she was listening the crystal bell was . 
sounding its warning. The young girl felt that the old 
hag would frighten her mother, and that she would have 



284 Southern Literary Readings 

to surrender the casket if she remained in the house, and 

405 so, while the bell was rapping out its warning notes, she 
slipped through the window of her room, and fled into 
the fields, and as soon as she got out of sight of the house 
the bell ceased to sound the alarm. 

Thus it happened that when Lizette's mother went to 

410 fetch the casket, she found her daughter gone. She was 
much troubled at this, for the child had not eaten her 

' breakfast. The mother searched in the blankets for the 
casket, but it was not to be found, and she was compelled 
to tell the old woman that Lizette had gone out, but would 

415 probably return in a short time. 

"Gone out, is she? I thought as much. Well, the 
casket will be called for, mark that ! And the girl will be 
called for also — and you will do well to mark that, too." 
She went away laughing like a hen cackling, and left 

420 the poor woman thoroughly frightened. And yet, some- 
how, she had a feeling of relief. If Lizette had been in 
the house she would undoubtedly have compelled her to 
surrender the casket. When the mother grew calmer, she 
felt convinced that the old hag had tried to deceive her, 

425 for she had never known her daughter to tell a falsehood. 

She waited for her daughter to return, and she also 

had some expectation that the Prince would send for the 

casket; but she soon forgot all about the Prince when 

Lizette continued to absent herself, something that she 

430 had never been known to do until after she had attended 
to all her household duties. Now she was gone, and 
nothing had been attended to — she had not even eaten 
her breakfast. The good mother fretted and worried a 
good deal as the morning passed with no sign of Lizette. 

435 She went to the field where her husband was working, 
and told him of all the happenings of the morning. The 
poor man could only shake his head and push his spade 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 285 

deeper into the ground; he could do nothing; he was 
-helpless. He felt naturally that if he had been allowed 
to have his own way — if he had been permitted to bury 440 
the casket deep out of sight — they would have had no 
trouble with it. He felt so and said so; and this view of 
the matter seemed so reasonable that the good wife began 
to cry, feeling that everything that had occurred had been 
her fault. The poor woman cried all the way home, 445 
and only dried her eyes when she came near the house, 
feeling that it would not mend matters for Lizette to 
see her in tears if she had by any chance returned. 

But Lizette had not returned, and the mother now 
became thoroughly frightened. It seemed to her that 450 
the house was lonelier than ever, and she had known it 
to be very lonely sometimes. But with her child gone, 
and with all the dread created by uncertainty hanging 
about her, the place no longer felt like home, and she gave 
way to her tears again. Nevertheless, there was work to 455 
be done, — cooking, washing, scrubbing, — but she set • 
about it with a heavy heart. 

As for Lizette, she had been led away from the house 
by her desire to preserve the crystal bell. She went into 
the forest, where she remained until she thought the old 46o 
woman had gone away, but when she started back home, 
the bell began to warn her with its tinkling strokes, and 
she felt justified in obeying the warning. So she con- 
tinued to ramble about at random in the forest. She 
came to a path, and would have crossed it, but the bell 465 
warned her, and it continued until she went along the 
path in a direction that led her away from her home. 

In rambling about in the forest she had avoided this 
path, for she knew that it led to the King's highway, 
which at certain seasons of the year was filled with trav- 470 
ellers, some in coaches, some in carriages, and some on 



286 Southern Literary Readings 

horseback. It was the season for the great annual fete 
at the King's capital, and, at such times, Lizette's mother 
had often warned her not to go in sight of the highway. 

475 The good woman knew that her daughter was very 

beautiful, and she wanted to keep her out of sight of the 

reckless and irresponsible persons who might chance to 

be going to or coming from the capital of the kingdom. 

The warnings of her mother had been sufficient to 

480 keep Lizette away from the highway, and she had confined 
her rambles to that part of the forest where strangers 
never came. But now the crystal bell was leading her to 
disobey the instructions of both her mother and father,, 
but she thought she had a very good reason for it, and 

485 she followed as the bell led. When she came in sight of 
the King's highway, a company of troopers was pass- 
ing, and they made a brave show, with their shining 
armour, their glittering halberds, and their fiery horses. 
Following this troop was a troop of foot soldiers, with 

490 their fifes and drums and flying flags. 

Lizette gazed at tHe great array with delight. She 
had never seen anything so fine, and she was ready to 
clap her hands because of the brave show the soldiers 
made. She would have gone closer, but the crystal 

495 bell tinkled out its warning, and she remained where she 
was. But presently the highway was clear, and as she 
went forward the bell was silent. The road ran between 
two hedges that had been planted along its entire length 
by order of the old King, who had been dead many years 

500 — so many that his grandson, who reigned in his stead, 
was now an old man with a son of his own, who was 
called the Prince. Lizette had often heard how handsome 
and good this young Prince was. He was so different 
from many other princes that his good deeds and his 

505 kindness were talked of everywhere. 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 287 

There was an opening in the hedge near where Lizette 
stood, and she went through and stood in the road, 
looking at the gay cavalcade of soldiers that was just 
disappearing in the distance. She was so much interested 
in this that she failed to see a great coach that was com- 510 
ing along the road behind her. The crystal bell warned 
her in time to get out of the way, and then it began to 
ring out a beautiful chime. The coachman was for driv- 
ing on by, but a grand lady who sat in the coach gave 
him a command to stop, and he drew up his fine horses 515 
instantly. 

In the coach with the fine lady were a gentleman and 
a little girl, and they were all three staring at Lizette 
with all their eyes. **Did you ever see a creature more 
beautiful?" cried the lady. "Just think how lovely she 520 
would be if she were properly clad! Why, she would 
create a sensation at court ; she would take the people's 
breath away!" 

"Oh, give her to me, mamma!" exclaimed the little 
girl. " V/e will dress her up in my large dolly's clothes, 525 
and then she'll be my sweetest dolly." The little girl 
was so much in earnest that she stood up and looked 
from the window of the coach, and called and beckoned 
to Lizette. "Come here!" she cried. "You must go with 
me and be my largest dolly." 530 

Lizette smiled at the little girl, and the smile made her 
more beautiful than ever. The gentleman in the coach 
was not so enthusiastic as the lady and the little girl. 
"Her clothing is in rags," he suggested. "But it is very 
clean," replied the lady. "And look at her hands, how 535 
small — and her complexion, how clear! Why, she is as 
beautiful as a wild rose." "True," said the gentleman; 
"but she is happy here — will she be as happy in a strange 
place and among strange people?" 



288 Southern Literary Readings 

540 "As to that, I cannot say," answered the lady; "but 
she seems to me to be one of those rare natures which 
find happiness in making others happy." The gentleman 
shrugged his shoulders. "Have your way." 

The lady asked Lizette her name, and inquired about 

545 her father and mother, and was very much pleased at 
the replies she received. The appearance and attitude 
of the young girl were so modest, and her replies were so 
intelligent, that those in the coach could not but believe 
that she was superior to the station in which Providence 

550 had placed her. 

"Oh, mamma!" cried the little girl again, "please give 
her to me; I will take good care of her." 

" I am sure of that, my dearest," replied the lady, "but 
she doesn't belong to me. If she will go with me of her 

555 own free will, I shall be very glad to take her." 

Just as Lizette was about to say that she would be very 
glad to go with the kind lady, an old woman came out of 
the wood behind her, and rushed forward as if to embrace 
her. Lizette eluded her, and turned to those in the coach 

560 with an air of entreaty, for she recognised in the old woman 
the same old hag who had come after the casket, claiming 
that the Prince had lost it in the forest. Strange to say, 
however, the crystal bell sounded no note of warning. It 
was quite silent, save when the golden hammer rung out 

565 the musical chimes. For this reason she was no longer 
afraid of the old woman. She had an idea, indeed, that 
this old hag was no other than the evil-minded fairy whom 
she had been warned against. 

"You see how my daughter treats me!" cried the old 

570 crone; "but you must excuse her, Your Honours. When 
she gets hungry, she is quite another creature. She is 
ashamed of me before company, but she is not ashamed 
of me when she wants food," 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 28g 

"You are not my mother," said Lizette, blushing; 
"but if you were I would not be ashamed of you. I never 575 
saw you until this morning, and then you were trying to 
rob me." 

"Rob you! your own mother rob you!" 

"Not my mother, but you. Dame Spider." When the 
old crone heard this name she flung her arms above her 58o 
head, gave a cry, and darted into the wood. Lizette had 
no idea that this name would have such an effect on the 
old woman, but she remembered what she had heard of 
the spider that had tried to catch the good fairy, and she 
called the old woman Dame Spider to let her know — if 585 
she was the wicked fairy — that she was suspected. 

The little girl laughed to see the ugly old woman run 
away so quickly. "She doesn't hke the name," said the 
gentleman. "If she's your mother, it's a pity." 

"But she is not my mother," Lizette insisted. "1 590 
never saw her but once before in my life. My mother 
and father live at the farther edge of the forest, and if 
the lady has time to drive that way, she can see them 
both. My mother is quite different from the woman 
you saw here just now." 595 

"I should hope so," said the lady; and then she told 
Lizette that she would like to take her to the capital, 
where the court was, and where the King lived, and she 
promised the young girl that she would be well taken 
care of. eoo 

Lizette replied that she would be glad to go if she could 
get the permission of her father and mother. Those 
in the carriage consulted a while together, and at last 
it was decided to send one of the footmen with Lizette. 
Meanwhile, the lady, the gentleman, and the little girl eos 
were to sit in the coach and wait for the footman's return. 
The gentleman, it was plain, was not pleased with the 

19 



2go Southern Literary Readings 

programme; but he made the best of it, and sat with 
what patience he could, though he yawned a great deal. 

610 Now, if the wicked fairy was powerless to do Lizette 
a bodily injury while she carried the crystal bell in her 
bosom, she had it in her power to throw. a great many 
unexpected obstacles in the young girl's way, and this 
she proceeded to do. Lizette, accompanied by the foot- 

615 man, turned into the path by which she had come to the 
highway, but presently this path became obscure, and it 
grew fainter and fainter, until finally it disappeared alto- 
gether. This was not only puzzling to the young girl — 
it was distressing. The path had always been plain 

620 enough before, and she could not understand why it 
should fail to be plain now. But she kept on the best 
she knew how. The footman was very patient and kind, 
— he wanted Lizette to give a good report of his conduct 
if she returned, — but the young girl was completely at a 

625 loss as to the direction in which she was going. She knew 
she had been in this part of the wood many times, though 
not in the path, but everything seemed strange to her now. 
Her eagerness to get home added largely to her confusion, 
and it was not long before she felt that she was lost — 

630 lost in a forest that had almost been her home. 

Just as she was about to tell the footman that she was 
lost, and did not know which way to turn, a large butter- 
fly, the one that she had seen on two occasions before — 
floated down from the tops of the trees, and circled round 

635 her head close to her face. "Lead me home, pretty 
butterfly!" she exclaimed; "lead me home, and that 
quickly." 

The footman thought at first that she was speaking to 
him, but she shook her head when he asked her, and kept 

640 her eyes on the butterfly, which now went in a direction 
nearly opposite to that in which they had been going. 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 2gi 

Lizette followed it, and the footman followed her, and they 
went along very rapidly. Once she lost sight of the butter- 
fly, but she soon found it again. It had been compelled 
to fly over the tops of the trees to escape a large spider's 645 
web that had been flung from tree to tree. At that 
moment, too, they found the path again, and Lizette 
ran ahead, the footman following as best he could. 

Lizette was soon at home, and once there her story 
was quickly told, every part of which was confirmed by 65o 
the footman. This was not enough for the mother, who 
insisted on accompanying her daughter to the highway, so 
she could see the face of the kind lady who had proposed 
to take her child to the great city and provide for her. 
The mother quickly got together the modest wardrobe 655 
that belonged to Lizette, and insisted on dressing her in 
her Sunday best. This occupied but a few moments, and 
then they were ready to return. 

They found the lady and her companions awaiting them 
very impatiently. The gentleman was in such a hurry eeo 
that he had descended from the coach, and was pacing 
slowly up and down, wishing, no doubt, that they had 
never seen the peasant girl. Still, he was a kind-hearted 
gentleman, and he was rather glad on the whole that 
the young girl had returned. The lady, without telling 665 
her name, spoke very kindly to Lizette's mother, and told 
her how the beauty of the child had attracted her, and 
how she proposed to take charge of her and provide for 
her until she had become of age. Though the poor 
peasant woman loved her daughter dearly, and though 67o 
she knew that she would lie awake and weep over her 
absence for many a long night, she raised no objection 
to the lady's wishes. On the contrary, she declared that 
she looked on the lady's offer as the greatest honour 
that ever had or ever could come to them. 675 



2g2 Southern Literary Readings 

"Be not too sure of that," said the lady, "for your 
daughter has modesty as well as beauty, and if she is also 
generous and kind-hearted, nothing will stand in the way 
of her advancement." 

680 The mother could not find words to express her thanks, 
and so she turned away, after kissing her daughter good- 
bye, and went out of sight without looking back, for she 
was afraid Lizette would see her weeping. 

Now, this great lady was not altogether unselfish in 

685 what she proposed to do. She was one of the ladies of 
the court, and her husband, the gentleman who was in 
the coach with her, was one of the King's chief advisers. 
The lady was ambitious not only for herself, but for her 
husband. She knew that the King would soon be com- 

690 pelled to surrender the government to his son the Prince, 
and she wanted her husband and herself to stand well 
with the Prince when he became King. It happened that 
the young Prince, who had just come of age, had publicly 
declared his purpose to marry the most beautiful woman 

695 in the kingdom, witholit regard to rank or station. The 
only conditions he attached to the decree was that the 
woman of his choice should be modest, gentle, generous, 
and good, as well as beautiful. 

Those who were attached to the court thought that 

700 it would be well for the young Prince to marry a princess 
of one of the neighbouring kingdoms, so that the power 
and influence of his own country might be strengthened, 
and they were very much disturbed over the announce- 
ment that the heir to the throne had made. They were 

705 inclined to regard it as evidence that he would make 
an eccentric ruler when he became King. But there 
were others who thought that it showed an independ- 
ent mind, and a desire to make himself popular with his 
own people. 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 2Qj 

Nevertheless, those who were close to the court were in 710 
the habit of trying to please those who were above them, 
and some of these set their wits to work to please the 
Prince in the matter, in the hope that they might advance 
their own interests. Among these was the lady who had 
induced Lizette to accompany her to court. This lady 715 
had a great advantage over the other ladies of the court. 
She had humoured the Prince when he was a mere boy, 
and she had given him good advice in many ways. His 
own mother, who had been the Queen, was dead, and this 
lady had been very kind to him when he stood much in 720 
need of sympathy. 

When the young Prince made his announcement, the 
lady urged her husband to visit his estate in the country, 
in the hope that the journey would enable her to discover 
a young girl who was beautiful enough to catch the eye 725 
of the Prince. Her journey had been in vain up to the 
moment when she saw Lizette standing by the roadside, 
and it needed but a glance for her to see that this girl 
was the one she had been searching for. 

Once at the capital, and in her own home, she lost no 730 
time in preparing a suitable wardrobe for Lizette. She 
had sent to her a great many fine dresses, and she observed 
with pleasure that the young girl chose the simplest. 
And even while Lizette was choosing, and was prepared to 
be very happy, she thought of the poverty of her mother 735 
and father, and sighed. She made no secret of her 
thoughts, and the lady told her that in a few months, 
perhaps, she would be able to give her parents everything 
they wanted and more. 

The young Prince finally set the day when he was to 740 
make his choice, and, to the surprise of all, he named a 
new condition. The young girl who was to be his bride 
was to be not only beautiful, gentle, generous, and good, 



2Q4 Southern Literary Readings 

but she was to bring as her wedding dowry a trinket, 

745 or piece of jewelry, or some article of value which could 
not be matched in the kingdom. Of course there was 
great consternation among those whose friends or daugh- 
ters had proposed to enter the contest. Some of the 
would-be brides withdrew in a huff, while others besieged 

750 the jewellers with orders to make them some kind of an 
ornament which should have no pattern or fellow in the 
kingdom. The result was quite curious, for when the 
day came for the Prince to make his selection of a bride, 
the room in the palace which had been set apart for those 

755 who were ambitious to become princesses had the appear- 
ance of a museum full of queer relics. 

Now, the lady who had Lizette in charge had very 
wisely refrained from telling her about the declaration of 
the Prince, for she knew that the young girl's modesty 

760 would take alarm. But the Prince was a frequent visitor 
at the lady's house, and she contrived it so that the two 
young people should see each other. Indeed, she gave 
them frequent opportunities to converse together. Not 
knowing that the young man was the Prince, Lizette 

765 talked with him very freely, and he with her. He inquired 

if she intended to enter, into the contest with the beauties 

of the kingdom in response to the invitation of the Prince. 

"Why, no," she replied. "I am nothing but a poor 

peasant girl, and my parents have as much as they can 

770 do to earn an honest living. The Prince wouldn't look 
at such as I." 

He then tried to explain that, under the terms of the 
contest, a peasant girl would have as good a chance as 
any, if only she could fulfill the conditions. But Lizette 

775 only laughed, declaring that she would feel so much out 
of place among the beautiful girls of the kingdom that 
she would feel like sinking through the floor. 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell 2g^ 

"But," the young man insisted, "if the Prince were 
wise he would choose you in preference to all the rest." 

The lady had overheard this conversation, and herrso 
heart was filled with joy, especially when Lizette asked 
her some time afterwards if she thought the Prince was 
wise. The reply of the lady was that the Prince was as 
wise as the young man who sometimes came to see them. 
This reply caused Lizette to blush, though it failed to put 785 
any foolish ideas in her head. 

When the day came for the Prince to make choice of 
his bride, the largest room in the palace was filled with 
young ladies from all parts of the kingdom, and some of 
them were very beautiful. Lizette was there also, but 790 
the lady had given her to understand that she was to be 
present merely as a spectator. When everything was 
ready, the young man who sometimes visited the lady 
with whom Lizette lived, came into the room and looked 
around. All the young girls, with the exception of 795 
Lizette, bowed very low, making curtsies that were 
deemed a part of the court etiquette. Lizette, having 
no idea that this was the Prince, merely nodded as to an 
old acquaintance. This created some comment, and as 
her beauty shone out more brightly than all the rest, soo 
the comment was somewhat ill-natured. In the view of 
some she was an "impudent minx," while others whis- 
pered that she was "ill-bred and impolite." As Lizette 
heard none of these remarks, she regarded the scene with 
great composure, wondering when the Prince would make 805 
his. appearance. A small throne had been placed at one 
end of the room, and ushers and servants in fine uniforms 
stood at its rear, and were lined up on each side. 

Suddenly, while Lizette was admiring the scene, and 
wondering where so many beautiful girls had come from, sio 
an usher came to her. "The Prince," he said, "would 



2g6 Southern Literary Readings 

be pleased to speak with you." He led the way toward 
the throne, and she beheld seated there the young man 
with whom she had a slight acquaintance. 

816 "I am the Prince," he said; "will you seat yourself 
beside me?" 

"Your Royal Highness, I — " The poor girl was so 
astonished that she could hardly speak, and, in fact, she 
knew not what to say. 

820 The Prince rose, seeing her embarrassment, and took 
her by the hand. She would have knelt before him, but 
he would not permit it. "There are two seats, Lizette," 
he said. "One is for me, and the other, if you will take 
it, is for you." While he was speaking the crystal bell 

825 was ringing a joyful chime. He heard it and paused to 
listen, charmed with the sweet melody. Trembling, she 
stepped forward to take the seat, then paused, and turned 
to the Prince. "Have you forgotten, Your Highness, 
that I am but a poor peasant girl? My father bums 

830 charcoal, and my mother gathers faggots." 

Instead of answering her he led her to the seat, and as 
she took it he was well repaid by the look she gave him. 
Her eyes, swimming in happy tears, were full of gratitude. 
"I heard music just now, and I hear it again," said the 

835 Prince. "Can you by any chance tell me where it is and 
what it is?" 

For answer, she took the casket containing the crystal 
bell from her bosom, and placed it in his hand. It chimed 
forth a sweet melody louder than ever. And all the great 

840 company were enchanted by the music so wonderfully 
produced. 

Lizette was married to the Prince, and in due time 
became the Queen, and her parents were well cared for. 
The young Prince, who afterward became King, would 



The Tale of the Crystal Bell zgy 

have bestowed riches on them, but they insisted that 845 
all they desired was to be comfortable. Now that their 
daughter was happy, they had no other aim in life than 
to live contented on their farm. 

One of the features of the wedding, which was cele- 
brated with great magnificence, was a large and beautiful m 
butterfly which hovered over the bride during the cere- 
mony, and alighted on her shoulder afterwards, and sat 
there fanning her face with its wings, which shone as if 
they were studded with jewels. One of the scholars of 
the court — he was an entomologist, a man who collects sss 
bugs and insects — wanted to catch the butterfly and add 
it to his collection, but the Princess protested so earnestly 
that the Prince threatened to banish him from the court 
if he so much as looked at the butterfly. As you may 
guess, the butterfly was no other than the good fairy who m 
had brought all this good fortune to Lizette. 



CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK 

In a spacious ante-bellum country home near Mur- 
freesboro, Tennessee, on January 24, 1850, there was 
born a little girl who was named by her parents Mary 
Noailles Murfree, but who, when she became old enough 
to write stories, rechristened herself by the more mas- 
culine pen name Charles Egbert Craddock. She was a 
frail child, and in early youth was made lame for life by 
a stroke of paralysis. Unable to take part in the active 
sports of children, she found her greatest pleasure in 
reading and study. She was educated in an academy 
at Nashville, where her father, William R. Murfree, was 
a successful lawyer and man of affairs. The child showed 
remarkable aptitude for literature, reading with intense 
interest her masters in fiction, Sir Walter Scott and the 
great English woman novelist George Eliot. 

It was at the time of the Civil War, when the Murfree 
estate was seriously impaired — almost entirely swept 
away, in fact— and when the family was forced to move 
from the old plantation home to seek a refuge in the 
mountains of East Tennessee, that the young girl, already 
a close observer of nature and a remarkably keen 
critic of life as it passed under her eyes, first came into 
contact with the mountain people whose lives and habits 
she has so lovingly, so humorously, so faithfully, so 
humanly recorded in her stories. After the war the 
family usually spent the winters in the old Dickinson 
homestead and the summers in the mountains of East 
Tennessee, and here the author first tried her hand at 
story-writing, using as models the country people who 
came to her home to sell vegetables, chickens, or like 
products, and drawing her pictures of mountain scenery 
from her own observation as she rode about among the 
hills. She sent many of her early productions to weekly 
publications, among them Appleton's Journal, but exactly 
when she began to use the pen name Charles Egbert 

[298] 




From a photograph 
CHARLES EGBERT CRADDOCK 



Charles Egbert Craddock 2Qg 

Craddock is not definitely known. In literary circles she 
has never been known by any other name, and for many 
years she preserved the secret of her identity even from 
the most discerning critics. 

Though Miss Murfree was writing in the early- 
seventies, she made no stir in the literary world until 
her stories began to appear in the Atlantic Monthly in 
1878. Her first book, In the Tennessee Mountains, a 
collection of her short stories, did not appear until 1884, 
but from this time on Charles Egbert Craddock was 
recognized as one of the most forceful and original writers 
of fiction in America. Mr. Baskervill says: "It was at 
once recognized that another Southern writer of uncom- 
mon art, originality, and power had entered into a field 
altogether new and perfectly fresh. Only here and there 
was discernible the slightest trace of imitation in con- 
ception or manner, while the atmosphere was entirely 
her own ; and to the rare qualities of sincerity, simplicity, 
and closeness of observation were added the more strik- 
ing ones of vivid realization and picturing of scene and 
incident and character. Her magic wand revealed the 
poetry as well as the pathos in the hard, narrow, and 
monotonous life of the mountaineers, and touched crag and 
stream and wood and mountain range with an enduring 
splendor. . . . Her insight into the ordinary, common- 
place, seemingly unpoetic lives of the mountaineers, 
her tenderness for them, her perception of the beauty and 
the wonder of their narrow existence is one of the finest 
traits in her character and her art. Through this wonder- 
ful power of human sympathy the delicately nurtured 
and highly cultured lady entered into the life of the com- 
mon folk and heard their heart-throbs underneath jeans 
and homespun. She realized anew for her fellow men 
that untutored souls are perplexed with the same ques- 
tions and shaken by the same doubts that baffle the 
learned, and that it is inherent in humanity to rise to 
the heroic heights of self-forgetfulness and devotion to 
duty in any environment. Indeed, the keynote of her 
studies is found in the last sentence of this her first 
volume : * The grace of culture is, in its way, a fine thing, 
but the best that art can do — the polish of a gentleman 



joo Southern Literary Readings 

— is hardly equal to the best that nature can do in her 
higher moods.'" 

Miss Murfree's first long novel was Where the Battle 
was Fought (1884), the scene of which was the home of her 
childhood, the house described in the opening chapter 
being the one in which she was born. The family had 
returned to the old mansion after the war, and Miss 
Murfree still owns and resides in this famous seat of her 
maternal grandparents. Other books followed in rapid 
succession, some of the most important titles being Down 
the Ravine, The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountains, 
In the Clouds, Keedon Bluffs, The Despot of Broomsedge 
Cove, The Mystery of Witchface Mountain, The Juggler, 
The Frontiersman, The Storm C enter y The Amulet, The 
Windfall, and The Fair Mississippian. Though now well 
past her threescore years, she still shows keen interest in 
the people and the country over which her art has thrown 
so beautiful a mantle of romance. No woman in the 
South — nor any in the nation, for that matter — has done 
more satisfactory work in the difficult art of story-telling. 
She has raade a distinct contribution to American fiction 
in thus preserving in enduring form the life and character 
of a strange, secluded,, and rapidly vanishing people. 

(The most satisfactory treatment of Charles Egbert Craddock and 
her work is by Professor W. M. Baskervill in Southern Writers, Vol. I.) 



TAKING THE BLUE RIBBON AT THE 
COUNTY FAIR 

Jenks HoUis sat on the fence. He slowly turned the quid 
of tobacco in his cheek, and lifting up his voice spoke with 
an oracular drawl: — 

"Ef he kin take the certif'cate it's the mos' ez he kin 
do. He ain't never a-goin' ter git no pvemi-um in this life, 6 
sure's ye air a bom sinner." 

And he relapsed into silence. His long legs dangled 
dejectedly among the roadside weeds; his brown jeans 
trousers, that had despaired of ever reaching his ankles, 
were ornamented here and there with ill-adjusted patches, lo 
and his loose-fitting coat was out at the elbows. An old 
white wool hat drooped over his eyes, which were fixed 
absently on certain distant blue mountain ranges, that 
melted tenderly into the blue of the noonday sky, and 
framed an exquisite mosaic of poly-tinted fields in the val- is 
ley, far, far below the grim gray crag on which his little 
home was perched. 

Despite his long legs he was a light weight, or he would 
not have chosen as his favorite seat so rickety a fence. 
His interlocutor, a heavier man, apparently had some 20 
doubts, for he leaned only slightly against one of the pro- 
jecting rails as he whittled a pine stick, and with his every 
movement the frail structiu*e trembled. The log cabin 
seemed as rickety as the fence. The little front porch had 
lost a puncheon here and there in the flooring — perhaps 26 
on some cold winter night when Hollis's energy was not 
sufficiently exuberant to convey him to the woodpile ; the 
slender posts that upheld its roof seemed hardly strong 

[301] 



' J02 Southern Literary Readings 

enough to withstand the weight of the luxuriant vines 

30 with their wealth of golden gourds which had clambered 
far over the moss-grown clapboards; the windows had 
fewer panes of glass than rags; and the chimney, built of 
clay and sticks, leaned portentously away from the house. 
The open door displayed a rough, uncovered floor; a few 

85 old rush-bottomed chairs ; a bedstead with a patch-work 
calico quilt, the mattress swagging in the centre and show- 
ing the badly arranged cords below; strings of bright 
red pepper hanging from the dark rafters ; a group of tow- 
headed, grave-faced, barefooted children; and, occupying 

40 almost one side of the room, a broad, deep, old-fashioned 
fireplace, where winter and simimer a lazy fire burned under 
a lazy pot. 

Notwithstanding the poverty of the aspect of the place 
and the evident sloth of its master, it was characterized 

45 by a scrupulous cleanliness strangely at variance with its 
forlorn deficiencies. The rough floor was not only swept 
but scoured; the darl^ rafters, whence depended the flam- 
ing banners of the red pepper, harbored no cobwebs; the 
grave faces of the white-haired children bore no more dirt 

60 than was consistent with their recent occupation of making 
mudpies; and the sedate, bald-headed baby, lying silent 
but wide-awake in an uncouth wooden cradle, was as clean 
as clear spring water and yellow soap could make it. Mrs. 
Hollis herself, seen through the vista of opposite open doors, 

55 energetically rubbing the coarse wet clothes upon the 
resonant washboard, seemed neat enough in her blue-and- 
white checked homespun dress, and with her scanty hair 
drawn smoothly back from her brow into a tidy little knot 
on the top of her head. 

60 Spare and gaunt she was, and with many lines in her 
prematurely old face. Perhaps they told of the hard 
fight her brave spirit waged against the stem ordering of 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair 303 

her life; of the struggles with squalor, — inevitable con- 
comitant of poverty, — and to keep together the souls and 
bodies of those numerous children, with no more efficient 65 
assistance than could be wrung from her reluctant husband 
in the short intervals when he did not sit on the fence. 
She managed as well as she could ; there was an abundance 
of fine fruit in that low line of foliage behind the house — 
but everybody on Old Bear Mountain had fine fruit. 70 
Something rarer, she had good vegetables — the planting 
and hoeing being her own work and her eldest daughter's; 
an occasional shallow furrow representing the contribu- 
tion of her husband's plough. The althea-bushes and 
the branches of the laurel sheltered a goodly number of 75 
roosting hens in these September nights ; and to the pond, 
which had been formed by damming the waters of the 
spring branch in the hollow across the road, was moving 
even now a stately procession of geese in single file. These 
simple belongings were the trophies of a gallant battle so 
against unalterable conditions and the dragging, dispirit- 
ing clog of her husband's inertia. 

His inner life — does it seem hard to realize that in that 
uncouth personality concentred the complex, incompre- 
hensible, ever-shifting emotions of that inner life which, ss 
after all, is so much stronger, and deeper, and broader 
than the material? Here, too, beat the hot heart of 
himianity — beat with no measured throb. He had his 
hopes, his pleasure, his pain, like those of a higher cul- 
ture, differing only in object, and something perhaps in 90 
degree. His disappointments were bitter and lasting; 
his triumphs, few and sordid; his single aspiration — to 
take the premium offered by the directors of the Kildeer 
County Fair for the best equestrian. 

This incongruous and unpromising ambition had sprung os 
up in this wise: Between the country people of Kildeer 



J04 Southern Literary Readings 

County and the citizens of the village of Colbury, the 
county-seat, existed a bitter and deeply rooted animosity 
manifesting itself at conventions, elections for the legisla- 

looture, etc., the rural population voting as a unit against 
the town's candidate. On all occasions of public meetings 
there was a struggle to crush any invidious distinction 
against the "country boys," especially at the annual fair. 
Here to the rustics of Kildeer County came the tug of 

105 war. The population of the outlying districts was more 
numerous, and, when it could be used as a suffrage-engine, 
all-powerful; but the region immediately adjacent to the 
town was far more fertile. On those fine meadows 
grazed the graceful Jersey; there gamboled sundry long- 

110 tailed colts with long-tailed pedigrees; there greedy 
Berkshires fattened themselves to abnormal proportions; 
and the merinos could hardly walk, for the weight of 
their own rich wardrobes. The well-to-do farmers of 
this section were hand-in-glove with the town's people; 

115 they drove their trotters in every day or so to get their 
mail, to chat with their cronies, to attend to their affairs 
in court, to sell or to buy — their pleasures centered in the 
town, and they turned the cold shoulder upon the coun- 
try, which supported them, and gave their influence to 

120 Colbury, accounting themselves an integrant part of it. 
Thus, at the fairs the town claimed the honor and glory. 
The blue ribbon decorated cattle and horses bred within 
ten miles of the flaunting flag on the judges' stand, and 
the foaming mountain-torrents and the placid stream in 

126 the valley beheld no cerulean hues save those of the sky 
which they reflected. 

The premium offered this year for the best rider was, as it 
happened, a new feature, and excited especial interest. The 
country's blood was up. Here was something for which 

130 it could fairly compete, with none of the disadvantages 



Taking the Bhie Ribbon at the County Fair jo^ 

of the false position in which it was placed. Hence a 
prosperous landed proprietor, the leader of the rural fac- 
tion, dwelling midway between the town and the range 
of mountains that bounded the county on the north and 
east, bethought himself one day of Jenkins Hollis, whose 135 
famous riding had been the feature of a certain dashing 
cavalry charge — once famous, too — forgotten now by all 
but the men who, for the first and only time in their 
existence, penetrated in those war days the blue moun- 
tains fencing in their county from the outer world, and ho 
looked upon the alien life beyond that wooded barrier. 
The experience of those four years, submerged in the 
whirling rush of events elsewhere, survives in these event- 
less regions in a dreamy, dispassionate sort of longevity. 
And Jenkins HoUis's feat of riding stolidly — one could 145 
hardly say bravely — up an almost sheer precipice to a 
flame-belching battery came suddenly into the landed 
magnate's recollection with the gentle vapors and soothing 
aroma of a meditative after-dinner pipe. Quivering with 
party spirit, Squire Goodlet sent for Hollis and offered to 150 
lend him the best horse on the place, and a saddle and 
bridle, if he would go down to Colbury and beat those 
town fellows out on their own ground. 

No misgivings had Hollis. The inordinate personal 
pride characteristic of the mountaineer precluded his 155 
feeling a shrinking pain at the prospect of being presented, 
a sorry contrast, among the well-clad, well-to-do town's 
people, to compete in a public contest. He did not appre- 
ciate the difference — he thought himself as good as the best. 

And to-day, complacent enough, he sat upon the leo 
rickety fence at home, oracularly disparaging the eques- 
trian accomplishments of the town's noted champion. 

"I dunno — I dunno," said his young companion doubt- 
fully. " Hackett sets mighty firm onto his saddle. He's 



jo6 Southern Literary Readings 

165 ez straight ez any shingle, an' ez tough ez a pine-knot. 
He come up hyar las' summer — war it las' summer, 
now? No, 't war summer afore las' — with some o' them 
other Colbury folks, a-fox-huntin', an' a-deer-huntin', an' 
one thing an' 'nother. I seen 'em a time or two in the 

170 woods. An' he kin ride jes' ez good 'mongst the gullies 
and boulders like ez ef he had been bom in the hills. He 
ain't a-goin' ter be beat easy." 

"It don't make no differ," retorted Jenks Hollis. 
"He'll never git no premi-wm. The certif 'cate 's good 

175 a-plenty fur what ridin' he kin do." 

Doubt was still expressed in the face of the young man, 
but he said no more, and, after a short silence, Mr. Hollis, 
perhaps not relishing his visitor's want of appreciation, 
dismounted, so to speak, from the fence, and slouched off 

180 slowly up the road. 

Jacob Brice still stood leaning against the rails and 
whittling his pine stick, in no wise angered or dismayed 
by his host's unceremonious departure, for social eti- 
quette is not very ri^id on Old Bear Mountain. He was 

185 a tall athletic fellow, clad in a suit of brown jeans, which 
displayed, besides the ornaments of patches, sundry deep 
grass stains about the knees. Not that piety induced 
Brice to spend much time in the lowly attitude of prayer, 
unless, indeed, Diana might be accounted the goddess of 

190 his worship. The green juice was pressed out when kneel- 
ing, hidden in some leafy, grassy nook, he heard the infre- 
quent cry of the wild turkey, or his large, intent blue eyes 
caught a glimpse of the stately head of an antl.ered buck, 
moving majestically in the alternate sheen of the sunlight 

195 and shadow of the overhanging crags ; or while with his 
deft hunter's hands he dragged himself by slow, noiseless 
degrees through the ferns and tufts of rarik weeds to the 
water's edge, that he might catch a shot at the feeding 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair 307 

wild duck. A leather belt around his waist supported his 
powder-horn and shot-pouch, — for his accoutrements were 200 
exactly such as might have been borne a hundred years 
ago by a hunter of Old Bear Mountain, — and his gun 
leaned against the trunk of a chestnut oak. 

Although he still stood outside the fence, aimlessly 
lounging, there was a look on his face of a half -suppressed 20s 
expectancy, which rendered the features less statuesque 
than was their wont — an expectancy that showed itself 
in the furtive lifting of his eyelids now and then, enabling 
him to survey the doorway without turning his head. 
Suddenly his face reassumed its habitual, inexpressive 210 
mask of immobility, and the furtive eyes were persist- 
ently downcast. 

A flare of color, and Cynthia Hollis was standing in 
the doorway, leaning against its frame. She was robed, 
like September, in brilliant yellow. The material and 215 
make were of the meanest, but there was a certain appro- 
priateness in the color with her slumberous dark eyes 
and the curling tendrils of brown hair which fell upon her 
forehead and were clustered together at the back of her 
neck. No cuffs and no collar could this costume boast, 220 
but she had shown the inclination to finery characteristic 
of her age and sex by wearing around her throat, where 
the yellow hue of her dress met the creamy tint of her 
skin, a row of large black beads, threaded upon a shoe- 
string in default of an elastic, the brass ends flaunt- 225 
ing brazenly enough among them. She held in her 
hand a string of red pepper, to which she was adding 
some newly gathered pods. A slow job Cynthia seemed 
to make of it. 

She took no more notice of the man under the tree than 230 
he accorded to her. There they stood, within twelve feet 
of each other, in utter silence, and, to all appearance, each 



jo8 Southern Literary Readings 

entirely unconscious of the other's existence: he whittling 
his pine stick; she slowly, slowly stringing the pods of 

235 red pepper. 

There was something almost portentous in the gravity 
and sobriety of demeanor of this girl of seventeen; she 
manifested less interest in the young man than her own 
grandmother might have shown. 

240 He was constrained to speak first. "Cynthy" — he said 
at length, without raising his eyes or turning his head. 
She did not answer; but he knew without looking that 
she had fixed those slumberous brown eyes upon him, 
waiting for him to go on. "Cynthy" — he said again, 

245 with a hesitating, uneasy manner. Then, with an awk- 
ward attempt at raillery, "Ain't ye never a-thinkin' 'bout 
a-gittin' married ? ' ' 

He cast a laughing glance toward her, and looked down 
quickly at his clasp-knife and the stick he was whittling. 

250 It was growing very slender now. 

Cynthia's serious face relaxed its gravity. "Ye air 
foolish, Jacob," shef said, laughing. After stringing on 
another pepper-pod with great deliberation, she continued : 
"Ef I war a-studyin' 'bout a-gittin' married, thar ain't 

255 nobody round 'bout hyar ez I'd hev." And she added 
another pod to the flaming red string, so bright against 
the yellow of her dress. 

That stick could not long escape annihilation. The 
clasp-knife moved vigorously through its fibres, and 

260 accented certain arbitrary clauses in its owner's retort. 
"Ye talk like," he said, his face as monotonous in its 
expression as if every line were cut in marble — "ye talk 
like — ye thought ez how I — war a-goin' ter ax ye — ter 
marry me. I ain't though, nuther." 

265 The stick was a shaving. It fell among the weeds. 
The young hunter shut his clasp-knife with a snap. 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair jog 

shouldered his gun, and without a word of adieu on either 
side the conference terminated, and he walked off down 
the sandy road. 

Cynthia stood watching him until the laurel-bushes 279 
hid him from sight; then sliding from the door-frame 
to the step, she sat motionless, a bright-hued mass of 
yellow draperies and red peppers, her slumberous deep eyes 
resting on the leaves that had closed upon him. 

She was the central figure of a still landscape. The 27s 
midday sunshine fell in broad effulgence upon it; the 
homely, dun-colored shadows had been running away all 
the morning, as if shirking the contrast with the splendors 
of the golden light, until nothing was left of them except a 
dark circle beneath the wide-spreading trees. No breath 280 
of wind stirred the leaves, or rippled the surface of the 
little pond. The lethargy of the hour had descended even 
upon the towering pine-trees, growing on the precipitous 
slope of the mountain, and showing their topmost plumes 
just above the frowning, gray crag — their melancholy song 235 
was hushed. The silent masses of dazzling white clouds 
were poised motionless in the ambient air, high above the 
valley and the misty expanse of the distant, wooded ranges. 

A lazy, lazy day, and very, very warm. The birds had 
much ado to find sheltering shady nooks where they might 290 
escape the glare and the heat; their gay carols were out 
of season, and they blinked and nodded under their leafy 
umbrellas, and fanned themselves with their wings, and 
twittered disapproval of the weather. "Hot, hot, red- 
hot ! ' ' said the birds — ' ' broiling hot ! ' ' 295 

Now and then an acorn fell from among the serrated 
chestnut leaves, striking upon the fence with a sounding 
thwack, and rebounding in the weeds. Those chestnut- 
oaks always seem to unaccustomed eyes the creation of 
Nature in a fit of mental aberration — useful freak! the 300 



jio Southern Literary Readings 

mountain swine fatten on the plenteous mast, and the bark 

is highly esteemed at the tan-yard. 
A large cat was lying at full length on the floor of the 

little porch, watching with drowsy, half-closed eyes the 
305 assembled birds in the tree. But she seemed to have 

relinquished the pleasures of the chase until the mercury 

should fall. 

Close in to the muddiest side of the pond over there, 

which was all silver and blue with the reflection of the great 
310 masses of white clouds, and the deep azure sky, a fleet of 

shining, snowy geese was moored, perfectly motionless 

too. No circumnavigation for them this hot day. 

And Cynthia's dark brown eyes, fixed upon the leafy 

vista of the road, were as slumberous as the noontide 
315 sunshine. 

" Cynthy ! whar is the gal? " said poor Mrs. HoUis, as she 

came around the house to hang out the ragged clothes on 

the althea-bushes and the rickety fence. ** Cynthy, air ye 

a-goin' ter sit thar in the door all day, an' that thar pot 
320 a-bilin' all the stren'th out'n that thar cabbige an' roas'in'- 

ears? Dish up dinner, child, an' don't be so slow an' 

slack-twisted like yer dad." 

Great merriment there was, to be sure, at the Kildeer 
Fair grounds, situated on the outskirts of Colbury, when 

325 it became known to the convulsed town faction that the 
gawky Jenks HoUis intended to compete for the premium 
to be awarded to the best and most graceful rider. The 
contests of the week had as usual resulted in Colbury's 
favor; this was the last day of the fair, and the defeated 

330 country popiilation anxiously but still hopefully awaited 
its notable event. 

A warm sun shone; a brisk autumnal breeze waved the 
flag fi5ning from the judges' stand ; a brass band in the upper 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair jii 

story of that structure thrilled the air with the vibrations 
of pop\ilar waltzes and marches, somewhat marred now 335 
and then by mysteriously discordant bass tones ; the judges, 
portly, red-faced, middle-aged gentlemen, sat below in 
cane-bottom chairs critically a-tilt on the hind legs. The 
rough wooden amphitheatre, a bold satire on the stately 
Roman edifice, was filled with the denizens of Colbury and 340 
the rosy rural faces of the country people of Kildeer 
County; and within the charmed arena the competitors 
for the blue ribbon and the saddle and bridle to be awarded 
to the best rider were just now entering, ready mounted, 
from a door beneath the tiers of seats, and were slowly mak- 345 
ing the tour of the circle around the judges' stand. One 
by one they came, with a certain nonchalant pride of 
demeanor, conscious of an effort to display themselves and 
their horses to the greatest advantage, and yet a little 
ashamed of the consciousness. For the most part they 350 
were young men, prosperous looking, and clad according 
to the requirements of fashion which prevailed in this little 
town. Shut in though it was from the pomps and vanities 
of the world by the encircling chains of blue ranges and the 
bending sky which rested upon their summits, the frivolity 355 
of the mode, though somewhat belated, found its way and 
ruled with imperative rigor. Good riders they were un- 
doubtedly, accustomed to the saddle almost from infancy, 
and well mounted. A certain air of gallantry, always 
characteristic of an athletic horseman, commended these seo 
equestrian figures to the eye as they slowly circled about. 
Still they came — eight — nine — ten — the eleventh, the 
long, lank frame of Jenkins Hollis mounted on Squire 
Goodlet's "John Barleycorn." 

The horsemen received this ungainly addition to their ses 
party with polite composure, and the genteel element of 
the spectators remained silent too from the force of good 



JI2 Southern Literary Readings 

breeding and good feeling; but the "roughs," always 
critically a-loose in a crowd, shouted and screamed with 

370 derisive hilarity. What they were laughing at Jenks Hollis 
never knew. Grave and stolid, but as complacent as the 
best, he too made the usual circuit with his ill-fitting jeans 
suit, his slouching old wool hat, and his long, gaunt figure. 
But he sat the spirited "John Barleycorn" as if he were 

375 a part of the steed, and held up his head with unwonted 
dignity, inspired perhaps by the stately attitudes of the 
horse, which were the result of no training nor compelling 
reins, but the instinct transmitted through a long line of 
high-headed ancestry. Of a fine old family was "John 

380 Barleycorn." 

A deeper sensation was in store for the spectators. 
Before Jenkins Hollis's appearance most of them had heard 
of his intention to compete, but the feeling was one of 
unmixed astonishment when entry No. 12 rode into the 

385 arena, and, on the part of the country people, this surprise 
was supplemented by an intense indignation. The twelfth 
man was Jacob Brice*. As he was a "mounting boy," one 
would imagine that, if victory should crown his efforts, 
the rural faction ought to feel the elation of success, but 

390 the prevailing sentiment toward him was that which every 
well-conducted mind must entertain concerning the indi- 
vidual who runs against the nominee. Notwithstanding 
the fact that Brice was a notable rider, too, and well 
calculated to try the mettle of the town's champion, 

395 there arose from the excited countrymen a keen, bitter, 
and outraged cry of "Take him out!" So strongly does 
the partisan heart pulsate to the interests of the nominee ! 
This frantic petition had no effect on the interloper. A 
man who has inherited half a dozen violent quarrels, any 

400 one of which may at any moment burst into a vendetta, 
— inheriting little else, — is not easily dismayed by the 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair jij 

disapprobation of either friend or foe. His statuesque 
features, shaded by the drooping brim of his old black hat, 
were as calm as ever, and his slow blue eyes did not, for 
one moment, rest upon the excited scene about him, so 405 
unspeakably new to his scanty experience. His fine figure 
showed to great advantage on horseback, despite his 
uncouth, coarse garb; he was mounted upon a sturdy, 
brown mare of obscure origin, but good-looking, clean- 
built, sure-footed, and with the blended charm of spirit 410 
and docility; she represented his whole estate, except his 
gun and his lean, old hound, that had accompanied him 
to the fair, and was even now improving the shining hour 
by quarreling over a bone outside the grounds with other 
people's handsomer dogs. 415 

The judges were exacting. The riders were ordered to 
gallop to the right — and around they went. To the left — 
and there was again the spectacle of the swiftly circling 
equestrian figures. They were required to draw up in a 
line, and to dismount; then to mount, and again to alight. 420 
Those whom these manoeuvres proved inferior were dis- 
missed at once, and the circle was reduced to eight. An 
exchange of horses was commanded; and once more the 
riding, fast and slow, left and right, the mounting and 
dismounting were repeated. The proficiency of the re- 425 
maining candidates rendered them worthy of more diffi- 
cult ordeals. They were required to snatch a hat from the 
ground while riding at full gallop. Pistols loaded with 
blank cartridges were fired behind the horses, and subse- 
quently close to their quivering and snorting nostrils, in 430 
order that the relative capacity of the riders to manage a 
frightened and unruly steed might be compared, and the 
criticism of the judges mowed the number down to four. 

Free speech is conceded by all right-thinking people to 
be a blessing. It is often a balm. Outside of the building 435 



JJ4 Southern Literary Readings 

and of earshot the defeated aspirants took what comfort 
they could in consigning, with great fervor and volubility, 
all the judicial magnates to that torrid region unknown to 
polite geographical works. 

440 Of the four horsemen remaining in the ring, two were 
Jenkins Hollis and Jacob Brice. Short turns at full gallop 
were prescribed. The horses were required to go backward 
at various gaits. Bars were brought in and the crowd 
enjoyed the exhibition of the standing-leap, at an ever- 

445 increasing height and then the flying-leap — a tumultuous 
confused impression of thundering hoofs and tossing mane 
and grim defiant faces of horse and rider, in the Ughtning- 
like moment of passing. Obstructions were piled on the 
track for the "long jumps," and in one of the wildest leaps 

450 a good rider was unhorsed and rolled on the ground while 
his recreant steed that had balked at the last moment 
scampered around and around the arena in a wild effort 
to find the door beneath the tiers of seats to escape so 
fierce a competition. This accident reduced the number 

455 of candidates to the* two mountaineers and Tip Hackett, 
the man whom Jacob had pronounced a formidable rival. 
The circling about, the mounting and dismounting, the 
exchange of horses were several times repeated without 
any apparent result, and excitement rose to fever heat. 

460 The premiimi and certificate lay between the three men. 
The town faction trembled at the thought that the sub- 
stantial award of the saddle and bridle, with the decoration 
of the blue ribbon, and the intangible but still precious 
secondary glory of the certificate and the red ribbon might 

465 be given to the two mountaineers, leaving the crack rider 
of Colbury in an ignominious lurch; while the country 
party feared Hollis 's defeat by Hackett rather less than 
that Jenks would be required to relinquish the premium to 
the interloper Brice, for the young hunter's riding had 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair 5/5 

stricken a pang of prophetic terror to more than one par- 470 
tisan rustic's heart. In the midst of the perplexing doubt, 
which tried the judges' minds, came the hour for dinner, and 
the decision was postponed until after that meal. 

The competitors left the arena, and the spectators 
transferred their attention to unburdening hampers, or to 475 
jostling one another in the dining-hall. 

Everybody was feasting but Cynthia Hollis. The in- 
tense excitement of the day, the novel sights and sounds 
utterly undreamed of in her former life, the abruptly struck 
chords of new emotions suddenly set vibrating within her, 48o 
had dulled her relish for the midday meal ; and while the 
other members of the family repaired to the shade of a tree 
outside the grounds to enjoy that refection, she wandered 
about the "floral hall," gazing at the splendors of bloom 
thronging there, all so different from the shy grace, the 485 
fragility of poise, the delicacy of texture of the flowers of 
her ken, — the rhododendron, the azalea, the Chilhowee 
lily, — yet vastly imposing in their massed exuberance and 
scarlet pride, for somehow they all seemed high colored. 

She went more than once to note with a kind of aghast 490 
dismay those trophies of feminine industry, the quilts; 
some were of the "log cabin" and "rising sun" variety, 
but others were of geometric intricacy of form and were 
kaleidoscopic of color with an amazing labyrinth of 
stitchings and embroideries — it seemed a species of 495 
effrontery to dub one gorgeous poly-tinted silken banner a 
quilt. But already it bore a blue ribbon, and its owner 
was the richer by the prize of a glass bowl and the envy of 
a score of deft-handed competitors. She gazed upon the 
glittering jellies and preserves, upon the biscuits and 500 
cheeses, the hair- work and wax flowers, and paintings. 
These latter treated for the most part of castles and seas 
rather than of the surrounding altitudes, but Cynthia came 



ji6 Southern Literary Readings 

to a pause of blank surprise in front of a shadow rather 

505 than a picture which represented a spring of still brown 
water in a mossy cleft of a rock where the fronds of a fern 
seemed to stir in the foreground. "I hev viewed the like 
o' that a many a time," she said disparagingly. To her it 
hardly seemed rare enough for the blue ribbon on the frame. 

510 In the next room she dawdled through great piles of 
prize fruits and vegetables — water-melons unduly vast of 
bulk, peaches and pears and pumpkins of proportions never 
seen before out of a nightmare, stalks of Indian com 
eighteen feet high with seven ears each, — all apparently 

515 attesting what they could do when they would, and that 
all the enterprise of Kildeer County was not exclusively 
of the feminine persuasion. 

Finally Cynthia came out from the midst of them and 
stood leaning against one of the large pillars which sup- 

520 ported the roof of the amphitheatre, still gazing about the 
half-deserted building, with the smouldering fires of her 
slumberous eyes newly kindled. 

To other eyes and^ars it might not have seemed a scene 
of tumultuous metropolitan life, with the murmuring trees 

525 close at hand dappling the floor with sycamore shadows, 
the fields of Indian com across the road, the exuberant rush 
of the stream down the slope just beyond, the few hundred 
spectators who had intently watched the events of the day; 
but to Cynthia Hollis the excitement of the crowd and 

530 movement and noise could no further go. 

By the natural force of gravitation Jacob Brice presently 
was walking slowly and apparently aimlessly around to 
where she was standing. He said nothing, however, when 
he was beside her, and she seemed entirely unconscious 

535 of his presence. Her yellow dress was as stiff as a board , 
and as clean as her strong, young arms could make it; at 
her throat were the shining black beads ; on her head she 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair 31"/ 

wore a limp, yellow calico sunbonnet, which hung down 
over her eyes, and almost obscured her countenance. To 
this article she perhaps owed the singular purity and 540 
transparency of her complexion, as much as to the moun- 
tain air, and the chiefly vegetable fare of her father's table. 
She wore it constantly, although it operated almost as a 
mask, rendering her more easily recognizable to their few 
neighbors by her flaring attire than by her features, and 545 
obstructing from her own view all surrounding scenery, so 
that she could hardly see the cow, which so much of her 
time she was slowly poking after. 

She spoke unexpectedly, and without any other symptom 
that she knew of the young hunter's proximity. " I never 550 
thought, Jacob, ez how ye would hev come down hyar, 
all the way from the mountings, to ride agin my dad, 
an' beat him out'n that thar saddle an' bridle." 

"Ye won't hev nothin' ter say ter me," retorted Jacob 
sourly. 555 

A long silence ensued. 

Then he resumed didactically, but with some irrelevancy, 
"I tole ye t'other day ez how ye war old enough ter be 
a-studyin' 'bout gittin' married." 

"They don't think nothin' of ye ter our house, Jacob, m 
Dad 's always a-jowin' at ye." Cynthia's candor certainly 
could not be called in question. 

The young hunter replied with some natiiral irritation: 
"He hed better not let me hear him, ef he wants to keep 
whole bones inside his skin. He better not tell me, ses 
nuther." 

"He don't keer enough 'bout ye, Jacob, ter tell ye. 
He don't think nothin' of ye." 

Love is popularly supposed to dull the mental faculties. 
It developed in Jacob Brice sudden strategic abilities. 570 

"Thar is them ez does," he said diplomatically. 



ji8 Southern Literary Readings 

Cynthia spoke promptly with more vivacity than 
usual, but in her customary drawl and apparently utterly 
irrelevantly: — 

575 "I never in all my days see no sech red-headed gal ez 
that thar Becky Stiles. She 's the red-headedest gal ever 
I see." And Cynthia once more was silent. 
Jacob resumed, also irrelevantly: — 
''When I goes a-huntin' up yander ter Pine Lick, they 

58(1 is mighty perlite ter me. They ain't never done nothin' 
agin me, ez I knows on." Then, after a pause of deep 
cogitation, he added, "Nor hev they said nothin' agin me, 
nuther." 

Cynthia took up her side of the dialogue, if dialogue 

585 it could be called, with wonted irrelevancy: "That thar 
Becky Stiles, she's got the freckledest face — ez freckled 
ez any turkey-aig" (with an indescribable drawl on the 
last word). 

"They ain't done nothin' agin me," reiterated Jacob 

590 astutely, "nor said nothin' nuther — none of 'em." 

Cynthia looked hard across the amphitheatre at the 
distant Great Smoky Mountains shimmering in the hazy 
September sunlight — so ineffably beautiful, so delicately 
blue, that they might have seemed the ideal scenery of some 

595 impossibly lovely ideal world. Perhaps she was wondering 
what the unconscious Becky Stiles, far away in those dark 
woods about Pine Lick, had secured in this life besides 
her freckled face. Was this the sylvan deity of the young 
hunter's adoration? 

600 Cynthia took off her sunbonnet to use it for a fan. Per- 
haps it was well for her that she did so at this moment; 
it had so entirely concealed her head that her. hair might 
have been the color of Becky Stiles 's, and no one the wiser. 
The dark brown tendrils curled delicately on her creamy 

606 forehead ; the excitement of the day had flushed her pale 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair jig 

cheeks with an unwonted glow; her eyes were ahght with 
their newly kindled fires; the clinging curtain of her bon- 
net had concealed the sloping curves of her shoulders — 
altogether she was attractive enough, despite the flare of 
her yellow dress, and especially attractive to the untutored eio 
eyes of Jacob Brice. He relented suddenly, and lost all 
the advantages of his tact and diplomacy. 

"I likes ye better nor I does Becky Stiles," he said 
moderately. Then with more fervor, * * I likes ye better nor 
any gal I ever see." 615 

The usual long pause ensued. 

"Ye hev got a mighty cur'ous way o' showin' it," 
Cynthia replied.. 

"I dunno what ye 're talkin' 'bout, Cynthy." 

"Ye hev got a mighty cur'ous way o' showin' it," she 620 
reiterated, with renewed animation — "a-comin' all the 
way down hyar from the mountings ter beat my dad 
out'n that thar saddle an' bridle, what he's done sot his 
heart onto. Mighty cur'ous way." 

"Look hyar, Cynthy." The young hunter broke off 625 
suddenly, and did not speak again for several minutes. 
A great perplexity was surging this way and that in his 
slow brains — a great struggle was waging in his heart. He 
was to choose between love and ambition — nay, avarice 
too was ranged beside his aspiration. He felt himself an 630 
assured victor in the competition, and he had seen that 
saddle and bridle. They were on exhibition to-day, and 
to him their material and workmanship seemed beyond 
expression wonderful, and elegant, and substantial. He 
could never hope otherwise to own such accoutrements, m 
His eyes would never again even rest upon such resplendent 
objects, unless indeed in Hollis's possession. Any one who 
has ever loved a horse can appreciate a horseman's dear 
desire that beauty should go beautifully caparisoned. 



J20 Southern Literary Readings 

640 And then, there was his pride in his own riding, and his 
anxiety to have his preeminence in that accomplishment 
acknowledged and recognized by his friends, and, dearer 
triumph still, by his enemies. A terrible pang before he 
spoke again. 

645 "Look hyar, Cynthy," he said at last; "ef ye will marry 
me, I won't go back in yander no more. I'll leave the 
premi-wm ter them ez kin git it." 

"Ye 're fooHsh, Jacob," she replied, still fanning with the 
yellow calico sunbonnet. "Ain't I done tole ye, ez how 

660 they don't think nothin' of ye ter our house ? I don't want 
all of 'em a-jowin' at me, too." 

"Ye talk like ye ain't got good sense, Cynthy," said 
Jacob irritably. "What's ter hender me from hitchin' 
up my mare ter my uncle's wagon an' ye an' me a-drivin' 

655 up hyar to the Cross-Roads, fifteen mile, and git Pa'son 
Jones ter marry us ? We '11 get the license down hyar ter 
the Court House afore we start. An' while they'll all 
be a-foolin' away thar time a-ridin' round that thar ring, 
ye an' me will be a-gittin' married." Ten minutes ago 

660 Jacob Brice did not think riding around that ring was such 
a reprehensible waste of time. "What's ter hender? It 
don't make no differ how they jow then." 

"I done tole ye, Jacob," said the sedate Cynthia, still 
fanning with the sunbonnet. 

665 With a sudden return of his inspiration, Jacob retorted, 
affecting an air of stolid indifference: " Jes' ez ye choose. 
I won't hev ter ax Becky Stiles twict." 
And he turned to go. 
"I never said no, Jacob," said Cynthia precipitately. 

670 "I never said ez how I wouldn't hev ye." 

"Waal, then, jes' come along with me right now while 
. I hitch up the mare. I ain't a-goin' ter leave yer a-standin' 
hyar. Ye 're too skittish. Time I come back ye'd hev 



I 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair J2i 

done run away I dunno whar." A moment's pause and 
he added: "Is ye a-goin' ter stand thar all day, Cynthy 675 
Mollis, a-lookin' up an' around, and a-turnin' yer neck fust 
this way and then t'other, an' a-lookin' fur all the worl' 
like a wild turkey in a trap, or one o' them thar skeery 
young deer, or sech senseless critters ? What ails the gal ? " 

"Thar '11 be nobody ter help along the work ter oureso 
house," said Cynthia, the weight of the home difficulties 
bearing heavily on her conscience. 

"What 's ter hender ye from a-goin' down thar an' lendin' 
a hand every wunst in a while? But ef ye 're a-goin' ter 
stand thar like ye hedn't no more action than a — a-dunno- ess 
what, — jes' like yer dad, I ain't. I '11 jes' leave ye a-growed 
ter that thar post, an' I '11 jes' light out stiddier, an' afore 
the cows git ter Pine Lick, I '11 be thar too. Jes' ez ye 
choose. Come along ef ye wants ter come. I ain't a-goin' 
ter ax ye no more." ego 

"I'm a-comin'," said Cynthia. 

There was great though illogical rejoicing on the part 
of the country faction when the crowds were again seated, 
tier above tier, in the amphitheatre, and the riders were 
once more summoned into the arena, to discover from Jacob eos 
Brice's unaccounted-for absence that he had withdrawn 
and left the nominee to his chances. 

In the ensuing competition it became very evident to 
the not altogether impartially disposed judges that they 
could not, without incurring the suspicions alike of friend 700 
and foe, award the premium to their fellow-townsman. 
Straight as a shingle though he might be, more prepossess- 
ing to the eye, the ex-cavalryman of fifty battles was far 
better trained in all the arts of horsemanship. 

A wild shout of joy burst from the rural party when 705 
the most portly and rubicund of the portly and red-faced 
21 



^22 Southern Literary Readings 

judges advanced into the ring and decorated Jenkins HoUis 
with the blue ribbon. A frantic antistrophe rent the air. 
"Take it off !" vociferated the bitter town faction — "take 
710 it off!" 

A diversion was produced by the refusal of the Colbury 
champion to receive the empty honor of the red ribbon and 
the certificate. Thus did he except to the ruling of the 
judges. In high dudgeon he faced about and left the 
716 arena, followed shortly by the decorated Jenks, bearing 
the precious saddle and bridle, and going with a wooden 
face to receive the congratulations of his friends. 

The entries for the slow mule race had been withdrawn at 
the last moment ; and the spectators, balked of that unique 
720 sport, and the fair being virtually over, were rising from 
their seats and making their noisy preparations for depar- 
ture. Before Jenks had cleared the fair-building, being 
somewhat impeded by the moving mass of humanity, he 
encountered one of his neighbors, a listless mountaineer, 
725 who spoke on this wise: — 

"Does ye know tliat thar gal o' youm — that thar 
Cynthy?" 

Mr. Hollis nodded his expressionless head — presumably 
he did know Cynthia. 
730 "Waal," continued his leisurely interlocutor, still inter- 
rogative, "does ye know Jacob Brice?" 

Ill-starred association of ideas! There was a look of 
apprehension on Jenkins Hollis's wooden face. 

"They hev done got a license down hyar ter the Court 
735 House an' gone a-kitin' out on the Old B'ar road." 
This was explicit. 

"Whar's my horse?" exclaimed Jenks, appropriating 

"John Barleycorn" in his haste. Great as was his 

hurry, it was not too imperative to prevent him from strap- 

740 ping upon the horse the premium saddle, and inserting in 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair J23 

his mouth the new bit and bridle. And in less than ten 
minutes a goodly number of recruits from the crowd assem- 
bled in Colbury were also *'a-kitin"' out on the road to 
Old Bear, delighted with a new excitement, and bent on 
running down the eloping couple with no more appre-745 
ciation of the sentimental phase of the question and the 
tender illusions of love's young dream than if Jacob and 
Cynthia were two mountain foxes. 

Down the red-clay slopes of the outskirts of the town 
"John Barleycorn" thunders with a train of horsemen at 750 
his heels. Splash into the clear fair stream whose trans- 
lucent depths tell of its birthplace among the mountain 
springs — how the silver spray showers about as the pur- 
suers surge through the ford leaving behind them a foamy 
wake ! — and now they are pressing hard up the steep ascent 755 
of the opposite bank, and galloping furiously along a level 
stretch of road, with the fences and trees whirHng by, and 
the September landscape flying on the wings of the wind. 
The chase leads past fields of tasseled Indian corn, with 
yellowing thickly swathed ears, leaning heavily from the 76o 
stalk; past wheat-lands, the crops harvested and the 
crab-grass having its day at last; past "wood-lots" and 
their black shadows, and out again into the September 
sunshine; past rickety little homes, not unlike HoUis's 
own, with tow-headed children, exactly like his, standing 765. 
with wide eyes, looking at the rush and hurry of the pur- 
suit — sometimes in the ill-kept yards a wood-fire is burning 
under the boiling sorghum kettle, or beneath the branches 
of the orchard near at hand a cider-mill is crushing the 
juice out of the red and yellow, ripe and luscious apples. 770 
Homeward-bound prize cattle are overtaken — a Durhani 
bull, reluctantly permitting himself to be led into a fence 
comer that the hunt may sweep by unobstructed, and 
turning his proud blue-ribboned head angrily toward the 



^24 Southern Literary Readings 

776 riders as if indignant that anything except him should 
absorb attention; a gallant horse, with another floating 
blue streamer, bearing himself as becometh a king's son; 
the chase comes near to crushing sundry grunting porkers 
impervious to pride and glory in any worldly distinctions 

780 of cerulean decorations, and at last is fain to draw up and 
wait until a flock of silly overdressed sheep, running in 
frantic fear every way but the right way, can be gathered 
together and guided to a place of safety. 

And once more, forward ; past white frame houses with 

785 porches, and vine-grown verandas, and well-tended gardens, 
and groves of oak and beech and hickory trees — "John 
Barleycorn" makes an ineffectual but gallant struggle to 
get in at the large white gate of one of these comfortable 
places. Squire Goodlet's home, but he is urged back into 

790 the road, and again the pursuit sweeps on. Those blue 
mountains, the long parallel ranges of Old Bear and his 
brothers, seem no more a misty, uncertain mirage against 
the delicious indefinable tints of the horizon. Sharply 
outlined they are now, with dark, irregular shadows 

795 upon their precipitous slopes which tell of wild ravines, 
and rock-lined gorges, and swirling mountain torrents, and 
great, beetling, gray crags. A breath of balsams comes 
on the freshening wind — the lungs expand to meet it. 
There is a new aspect in the scene ; a revivifying current 

800 thrills through the blood; a sudden ideal beauty descends 
on prosaic creation. 

" Tears like I can't git my breath good in them flat 
countries," says Jenkins HoUis to himself, as "John 
Barleycorn" improves his speed under the exhilarating 

805 influence of the wind. "I 'm nigh on to siffiicated every 
time I goes down yander ter Colbrry" (with a jerk of his 
wooden head in the direction of the village). 

Long stretches of woods are on either side of the road 



Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair ^25 

now, with no sign of the changing season in the foliage 
save the slender, pointed, scarlet leaves and creamy plumes sio 
of the sourwood, gleaming here and there; and presently 
another panorama of open country unrolls to the view. 
Two or three frame houses appear with gardens and 
orchards, a number of humble log cabins, and a dingy 
little store, and the Cross-Roads are reached. And here 815 
the conclusive intelligence meets the party that Jacob 
and Cynthia were married by Parson Jones an hour ago, 
and were still **a-kitin'," at last accounts, out on the 
road to Old Bear. 

The pursuit stayed its ardor. On the auspicious day 820 
when Jenkins Hollis took the blue ribbon at the County 
Fair and won the saddle and bridle he lost his daughter. 
I They saw Cynthia no more until late in the autumn 
when she came, without a word of self-justification or 
apology for her conduct, to lend her mother a helping 325 
hand in spinning and weaving her little brothers' and 
sisters' clothes. And gradually the eclat attendant upon 
her nuptials was forgotten, except that Mrs. Hollis now 
and then remarks that she *'dunno how we could hev 
bore up agin Cynthy's a-runnin' away like she done, ef 830 
it hedn't a-been fur that thar saddle an' bridle an' takin' 
the blue ribbon at the County Fair." 



FRANCIS HOPKINSON SMITH 

The story of a self-made man is always interesting. 
Francis Hopkinson Smith belongs to the class of self- 
made Americans, and inasmuch as he has succeeded in 
so many different kinds of work, his story will have a 
broader appeal than that of many a self-made man who 
has devoted his energies to a single line of activity. Bom 
in Baltimore, October 23, 1838, he was early thrown upon 
his own resources. His father planned that he should 
have a college education, but misfortune and financial 
reverses in the family forced the boy into the struggle for 
a livelihood when he had barely reached his teens. In his 
sixteenth year he turned toward New York City to seek 
his fortune. 

It is said that he had but thirty-eight cents when he 
arrived in the metropolis and that for weeks he walked 
the streets of the great city searching for employment, 
with no money in his pockets but with large confidence 
in his heart and a merry smile on his face. What he 
actually did during this period is not divulged, but it is 
known that he tried various kinds of work, now as clerk 
in some store and now as a day laborer on pubHc works. 
He finally secured employment in a manufacturing plant, 
and here he began his studies in iron and structural 
materials which led him eventually into what he calls 
his regular profession — namely, constructive mechanical 
engineering. He supplemented his practical experience 
in the shops with theoretical studies during his evenings 
and at other spare times, eventually winning for himself 
a distinguished place among the constructive engineers of 
the country. He has taken especial interest in building 
structures in water. Among his successful achievements 
are the sea wall around Governor's Island in New York 
Harbor, the Race Rock Lighthouse off New London, 
Connecticut, and the foundation of the famous Bartholdi 
Statue of Liberty. 

[326] 




From a photograph by Paul Thompson, N.Y. 
FRANCIS HOPKINSON SMITH 



Francis Hopkinson Smith 527 

Another field of endeavor, painting, has always been 
exceedingly attractive to Mr. Smith, and many of his 
admirers think he has done his best work as a painter 
in water colors. He has traveled widely, viewed life 
broadly, and studied nature closely; and he has suc- 
ceeded in transferring to his canvases some of the most 
charming moods of the outdoor world. His sketches of 
Venetian, Dutch, and Turkish scenes, and his pictures 
of other European and Asiatic coimtries, as well as of 
America, have won wide applause. 

Literatture came late among Mr. Smith's accomplish- 
ments, but his genius is none the less surely expressed 
in this form of art. He was forty-seven before the pub- 
lication of his first book. Old Lines in New Black and 
White (1885) . Since that date he has published more than 
twenty other works, comprising travel sketches, novels, 
short stories, essays, and criticism on art, but it is through 
his stories that he has won his secure place in American 
letters. No m.ore delightful characters than some of 
Mr. Smith's have appeared in American fiction within 
the past two decades. One of the finest and subtlest 
pieces of himiorous characterization yet produced in 
the South is that of Colonel Carter of Cartersville in the 
novel of that name — Mr. Smith's first, and to many 
readers his best, piece of fiction. The whole book has a 
humorous cast. The frankness, the truth, the reality of 
the portrayal are remarkable; and the sly twinkle in the 
story-teller's eye is irresistible as he lovingly sets forth 
all the foibles, all the endearing charms, of the old-time 
Southern gentleman. Colonel Carter's old body servant, 
Chad, is an excellent delineation of negro character. The 
selection given here illustrates Mr. Smith's skillful use 
of dialect and his keen sense of humor. Among his other 
stories that have attained wide public favor are The For- 
tunes of Oliver Horn and Caleb Westy Master Diver. 

In one other field Mr. Smith has won renown — namely, 
on the lecture platform. He is greeted by large audi- 
ences wherever he goes, and his histrionic powers seem to 
indicate that had he turned to the stage he would have 
succeeded as well before the foothghts as he has in engi- 
neering, in painting, and in literature. 



THE ONE-LEGGED GOOSE 

It was some time before I could quiet the old man's 
anxieties and coax him back into his usual good humor, 
and then only when I began to ask him of the old planta- 
tion days, 
s Then he fell to talking about the colonel's father, 
General John Carter, and the high days at Carter Hall 
when Miss Nancy was a young lady and the colonel a boy 
home from the university. 

* ' Dem was high times. We ain't neber seed no time like 
10 dat since de war. Git up in de mawnin' an' look out ober 
de lawn, an' yer come fo'teen or fifteen couples ob de fust- 
est quality folks, all on horseback ridin' in de gate. Den 
such a scufflin' round! Old marsa an' missis out on de 
po'ch, an' de little pickaninnies runnin' from de quarters, 
15 an' all hands helpin' 'em off de horses, an' dey all smokin' 
hot wid de gallop up de lane. 

*'An' den sich a breakfast an' sich dancin' an' co'tin'; 

ladies all out on de lawn in der white dresses, an' de 

gemmen in fairtop boots, an' Mammy Jane runnin' round 

20 same as a chicken wid its head off, — an' der heads was off 

befo' dey knowed it, an' dey a-br'ilin' on de gridiron. 

" Dat would go on a week or mo', an' den up dey '11 all 

git an' away dey 'd go to de nex' plantation, an' take Miss 

Nancy along wid 'em on her little sorrel mare, an' I on 

25 Marsa John's black horse, to take care bofe of 'em. Dem 

was times ! 

"My old marsa," — and his eyes glistened, — "my old 
Marsa John was a gemman, sah, like dey don't see now- 
adays. Tall, sah, an' straight as a cornstalk; hair white 

[328] 



The One-legged Goose J2g 

an' silky as de tassel; an' a voice like de birds was singin', 30 
it was dat sweet. 

" 'Chad,' he use' ter say, — you know I was young den, 
an' I was his body servant, — 'Chad, come yer till I bre'k 
yo' head' ; an' den when I come he 'd laugh fit to kill hisself . 
Dat 's when you do right. But when you was a low-down 35 
nigger an' got de debbil in yer, an' ole marsa hear it an' 
send de oberseer to de quarters for you to come to de little 
room in de big house whar de walls was all books an' whar 
his desk was, 'twa'n't no birds about his voice den, — mo' 
like de thunder." 40 

"Did he whip his negroes?" 

"No, sah; don't reckelmember a single lick laid on 
airy nigger dat de marsa knowed of; but when dey got so 
bad — an' some niggers is dat way — den dey was sold to 
de swamp lan's. He would n't hab 'em round 'ruptin' his 45 
niggers, he use' ter say. 

"Hab coffee, sah? Won't take I a minute to bile it. 
Colonel ain't been drinkin' none lately, an' so I don't 
make none." 

I nodded my head, and Chad closed the door softly, so 
taking with him a small cup and saucer, and returning in 
a few minutes followed by that most delicious of all aromas, 
the savory steam of boiling coffee. 

"My Marsa John," he continued, filling the cup with 
the smoking beverage, "never drank nufhn' but tea, eben 55 
at de big dinners when all de gemmen had coffee in de 
little cups — dat's one ob 'em you's drinkin' out ob now; 
dey ain't mo' dan fo' on 'em left. Old marsa would have 
his pot ob tea: Henny use' ter make it for him; makes it 
now for Miss Nancy. eo 

"Henny was a young gal den, long 'fo' we was married. 
Henny b 'longed to Colonel Lloyd Barbour, on de next 
plantation to ourn, 



jjo Southern Literary Readings 

"Mo' coffee, Major?" I handed Chad the empty cup. 
65 He refilled it, and went straight on without drawing 
breath. 

"Wust scrape I eber got into wid old Marsa John was 

ober Henny. I tell ye she was a harricane in dem days. 

She come into de kitchen one time where I was helpin' 

70 git de dinner ready an' de cook had gone to de spring 

house, an' she says: — 

"'Chad, what ye cookin' dat smells so nice?' 
"'Dat's a goose,' I says, 'cookin' for Marsa John's 
dinner. We got quality,' say^s I, pointin' to de dinin'- 
75 room do'. 

"'Quality!' she says. 'Spec' I know what de quality 
is. Dat 's for you an' de cook.' 

"Wid dat she grabs a caarvin' knife from de table, opens 
de do' ob de big oven, cuts off a leg ob de goose, an' dis'pears 
80 round de kitchen corner wid de leg in her mouf . 

"'Fo' I knowed whar I was Marsa John come to de 

kitchen do' an' says, 'Gittin' late, Chad; bring in de 

dinner.' You see, Major, dey ain't no up an' down stairs 

in de big house, like it is yer ; kitchen an' dinin'-room all 

85 on de same fio'. 

"Well, sah, I was scared to def, but I tuk dat goose an' 
laid him wid de cut side down on de bottom of de pan 
'fo' de cook got back, put some dressin' an' stuffin' ober 
him, an' shet de stove do'. Den I tuk de sweet potatoes 
90 an' de hominy an' put 'em on de table, an' den I went back 
in de kitchen to git de baked ham. I put on de ham an' 
some mo' dishes, an' marsa says, lookin' up: — 
" 'I fought dere was a roast goose, Chad? ' 
"'I ain't yerd nothin' 'bout no goose,' I says. *I*11 ask 
95 de cook.' 

"Next minute I yerd old marsa a-hollerin': — 
" 'Mammy Jane, ain't we got a goose? ' 



The One-legged Goose jji 

'"Lord-a-massy! yes, marsa. Chad, you wu'thless nig- 
ger, ain't you tuk dat goose out yit?' 

*"Is we got a goose?' said I. loo 

" 'Is we got a goose f Didn't you help pick it ? ' 

'*I see whar my hair was short, an' I snatched up 
a hot dish from de hearth, opened de oven do', an' 
slide de goose in jes as he was, an' lay him down befo' 
Marsa John. 105 

***Now see what de ladies '11 have for dinner,' says 
old marsa, pickin' up his caarvin' knife. 

"'What '11 you take for dinner, miss?' says I. 'Baked 
ham?' 

"'No,' she says, lookin' up to whar Marsa John sat; no 
*I think I '11 take a leg ob dat goose' — jes so. 

"Well, marsa cut off de leg an' put a little stuffin' an' 
gravy on wid a spoon, an' says to me, 'Chad, see what dat 
gemman'll have.' 

"'What '11 you take for dinner, sah?' says I. 'Nicens 
breast o' goose, or slice o' ham?' 

" ' No; I think I '11 take a leg of dat goose,' he says. 

"I didn't say nuffin', but I knowed bery well he wa'n't 
a-gwine to git it. 

"But, Major, you oughter seen ole marsa lookin' for 120 
der udder leg ob dat goose! He rolled him ober on de 
dish, dis way an' dat way, an' den he jabbed dat ole bone- 
handled caarvin' fork in him an' hel' him up ober de dish 
an' looked under him an' on top ob him, an' den he says, 
kinder sad like: — 125 

' "'Chad, whar is de udder leg ob dat goose?' 

'"It didn't hab none,' says I. 

" ' You mean ter say, Chad, dat de gooses on my planta- 
tion on'y got one leg? ' 

"'Some ob em has an' some ob 'em ain't. You see, 130 
marsa, we got two kinds in de pond, an' we was a little 



JJ2 Southern Literary Readings 

boddered to-day, so Mammy Jane cooked dis one 'cause I 
cotched it fust.' 

"'Well,' said he, lookin' like he look when he send for 

135 you in de little room, ' I '11 settle wid ye after dinner.* 

''Well, dar I was shiverin' an' shakin' in my shoes, an* 

droppin' gravy an' spillin' de wine on de table-cloth, I was 

dat shuck up ; an' when de dinner was ober he calls all de 

ladies an' gemmen, an' says, ' Now come down to de duck 

140 pond. I 'm gwineter show dis nigger dat all de gooses on 

my plantation got mo' den one leg.' 

"I followed 'long, trapesin' after de whole kit an' b'ilin', 
an' when we got to de pond" — here Chad nearly went 
into a convulsion with suppressed laughter — "dar was 
145 de gooses sittin' on a log in de middle of dat ole green 
goose-pond wid one leg stuck down — so — an' de udder 
tucked under de wing." 

Chad was now on one leg, balancing himself by my 
chair, the tears running down his cheeks. 
150 "'Dar, marsa,' says I, 'don't ye see? Look at dat 
ole gray goose! Dat's de berry match ob de one we 
had to-day.' 

"Den de ladies all hollered an' de gemmen laughed so 
loud dey yerd 'em at de big house. 
155 " ' Stop, you black scoun'rel! ' Marsa John says, his face 
gittin' white an' he a-jerkin' his handkerchief from his 
pocket. ' Shoo ! ' 

"Major, I hope to have my brains kicked out oy a lame 
grasshopper if ebery one ob dem gooses didn't put down 
160 de udder leg ! 

'"Now, you lyin' nigger,' he says, raisin' his cane ober 
my head, ' I '11 show you' — 

'"Stop, Marsa John!' I hollered; "t ain't fair, 't ain't 
fair.' 
165 " ' Why ain't it fair ? ' says he. 



The One-legged Goose jjj 

"' 'Cause,' says I, 'yo^ didn't say "Shoo!" to de goose 
what was on de table.'" 

Chad laughed until he choked. 

*'And did he thrash you?" 

" Marsa John? No, sah. He laughed loud as anybody; 170 
an' den dat night he says to me as I was puttin' some wood 
on de fire: — 

"'Chad, where did dat leg go?' An' so I ups an' tells 
him all about Henny, an' how I was lyin' 'cause I was 
'feared de gal would git hurt, an' how she was on'y a-fool- 175 
in', thinkin' it was my goose; an' den de ole marsa look 
in de fire for a long time, an' den he says : — 

"'Dat's Colonel Barbour's Henny, ain't it, Chad?' 

** 'Yes, marsa,' says I. 

"Well de next mawnin' he had his black horse saddled, iso 
an' I held the stirrup for him to git on, an' he rode ober 
to de Barbotir plantation, an' didn't come back till plumb 
black night. When he come up I held de lantern so I 
could see his face, for I wa'n't easy in my mine all day. 
But it was all bright an' shinin' same as a' angel's. i85 

"'Chad,' he says, handin' me de reins, 'I bought yo' 
Henny dis arternoon from Colonel Barbour, an' she's 
comin' ober to-morrow, an' you can bofe git married next 
Sunday.'" 



STARK YOUNG 

Stark Young of Mississippi has published two volumes 
of verse, The Blind Man at the Window and Gueneverey 
a Poetic Drama. His work shows a remarkable tech- 
nique for one so young, and displays evidences, too, of 
a poetic genius far above that of the ordinary verse 
maker. Mr. Young was bom at Como, Mississippi, 
October ii, 1881. He was graduated from the Uni- 
versity of Mississippi in 190 1. In 1902, after a year's 
study in the graduate school of Columbia University, 
he was granted the degree of Master of Arts. He then 
went abroad for study and inspiration, sojourning espe- 
cially in Italy. He returned to his native state in 1904, 
to become an instructor of English in the University of 
Mississippi. In 1907 he was invited to become a mem- 
ber of the teaching staff in English in the University 
of Texas, and in 19 10 was made adjunct professor and 
put in charge of the newly created school of General 
Literature. • 

Though Mr. Young's published work seems meager in 
bulk, it shows a wide range in both subject matter and 
verse forms. Among his productions are nature lyrics, 
love songs, literary ballads, reflective and personal poems, 
and themes from classical myths and medieval romance. 
Recently he has turned his attention to dramatic 
composition, and has just (19 12) published a volume of 
one-act plays, Addio, Madretta, and Other Plays. His 
greatest strength seems to lie in his nature lyrics, many 
of which are very beautiful, and in his classical and 
medieval themes. Gordia, which is here reprinted with 
Mr. Young's own glosses, is a good example of his artistic 
treatment of medieval theme. 

Perhaps Mr. Young has not yet reached his full matu- 
rity in creative work, but he has already done enough 
to win recognition as one of the most promising of our 
younger Southern poets. 

[334] 



GORDIA 

The nightbird crieth a long wail, 
'Tis a ghostly hour, the stars are pale, 
The homed moon drifts down the west, 
The spectre day hath stirred, and soon 
The sea-mews chatter in the nest. 
Why goeth Prosper on the sands? 
Lo ! phantom mists are on the plain. 
Cold the wind comes from off the main. 



Out in the melancholy stars 
The ghosts of dear lost things must come 
And many, many a weary day 
Prosper hath his wont to roam. 
'Tis follow, follow, ah, welaway! 
Tarry, young Prosper, and go pray; 
Light thy taper and tell thy beads, 
Criste's moder hath ear for lovers' needs. 



Between the 
night and the 
coming dawn 
Prosper 
roameth the 
sands of the 
shore. 



'Tis the hour, I wis, the fisherfolk say 

That Gordia comes from the sea to the rocks, 

And singeth her piteous lay. 

Weaving her garland of pale sea-stocks. 

Strange are her ballads the fishers tell. 

For mortal men not well, not well. 

Some say she is a sea-witch, come 

To bind poor sailors to her will. 

Some speak her fair, a princess from 

The palace of the sea-king ; still 

They fear, and sometimes in a ring 

[335] 



33^ 



Southern Literary Readings 



It is the flsher- 
folk that tell of 
the sea-maiden 
and of the 
haunted sands 
where she 
waiteth for her 
lover by night. 



The gossips gather whispering — 

It is a grisly crone that saith 

A haunted song on yesternight 

Hath waked her from a dream of death, 

And she saw through the moony fog the Hght 

Gleam on the robe of the sea-maiden, 

And how her song was sorrow-laden 

As any woman's that may weep. One cries, 

"Nay, nay, 'twas never a song 

From a woman's heart, the song I heard. 

But a wild and ringing melodic 

Of all the kingdoms that belong 

In the sea-king's rich demesne, 

Of wreathed pearls and gems that gird 

The brows of his maidens under the sea 

And their golden hair." 'Tis three have seen 

Her spread her mantle of fair sea-lace 

Bossed with lilies and lithe sea-dace. 

And long would she wave at a passing boat. 

Ah, sailor, bailor, didst not hear? 

Alack, then hath she torn away 

The bright pearls from her swelling throat ; 

And children later playing there 

Find strange sea-gems and a broken wreath, 

And all-affrighted hold their breath. 

"Thus Gordia," they say, "doth snare 

Poor boatmen to their death." 



But late young Prosper cometh home, 
For when his good ship sank at sea. 
Through many a citie did he roam 
And many a far countrie, 
Where men to wondrous ventures come. 
Yet plain and citie must he scorn, 



Gordia 



337 



Knowing she waited, sad, lovelorn. 
But when he cometh to the bay, 
** 'Tis seven year this Whitsuntide 
She waiteth not," the fishwives say. 
But no man knoweth where she died. 



Prosper he is mad they say, 
He keepeth but his cot by day, 
By night the sands and the cold sea-air. 
The long waves moan unto his call, 
"Will no one tell me where 's my love, 
Or who hath her in thrall ? " 
"Prosper is mad," the fishwives tell; 
"The inlet sands he maun beware. 
For on a night will ring his knell 
When Gordia singeth there." 



The wanderer 
seeketh his 
love by the 
sea. but never 
flndeth her. 



He waiteth not to hear them carp ; 

The dunes their ghostly shadows throw. 

The moon's rim droppeth down the sky, 

He paceth ever to and fro. 

* * Will no one tell ? ' ' The wind is sharp, 

And who will hear his cry? 

Alack, what charm upon him fell? 

'Tis never mortal throat I trow 

Singeth so wildly well. 

Lo, from a rock 'mid scarce sea-kale 

A maiden watcheth yet the sea, 

And beautiful and pale; 

But on her cheeks the coral hue. 

And coral on her full lips too, 

And hiding her shoulders everywhere. 

Half -hiding e'en her bosom's swell. 

And twisting seaweed-like it fell. 



85 

Sudden in the 
light of the 
moon he 
beholdeth the 
sea-maiden. 



22 



33S 



Southern Literary Readings 



The treasure of her golden hair. 
With it the bright sea-gold is spun, 
And up and down her fingers run 
Loosing the tangles there. 

And at her waist her fair white flesh 
Glows with the lustre of her zone, 
Of amber and pearls in knotted mesh, 
And unnamed sea-stones in it sewn ; 
Where from it hangeth half-aslant 
All the long mantle, fold on fold. 
Sinuous and undulant. 
Dim twihghts in its tissues sleep. 
As some soft wave from out the deep 
Were woven in with threads of gold 
And broidered flowers of wide sea-wold. 



And the 
beauty of the 
sea is in her 
body and in 
her dress and 
in the voice 
of her song. 



116 



120 



Is it the coral and sea-tints there. 

The green of her mantle, the gold of her hair, 

The lines of her body flowing free, 

The swell of her breasts like waves at sea 

Rising ever rhythmicly? 

Is it the song the maiden sings 

Bindeth Prosper motionless? 

Or what sea-magic is 't that brings 

Into his eyes the blind distress ? 

Monotonous and swinging slow 

Is the burthen, like a wave. 

But her voice is rich and low, 

And the murmur of it sweet, 

As when distant surf sounds beat 

In hollows of a deep sea cave. 

" When the wind blows in across the hay^ 

^ T is follow, follow, ah, welaway! 



Gordia 



339 



For her that waiteth on the stone, 
Sailor, make moan. 

**When a lad hath sailed upon the main 
And never, never come home again, 
His lass must rue, the way is wild, 
Ah, Mary Mother, keep thy child 
Left all alone. 

" There was one who sat beside the shore 
And watched the sea, and more and more 
But no sail came. And by and by, 
When in the bay the tide was high, 
They came and found her not, and wept. 
But still the sea his secret kept — 
Sailor, make moan.'* 

'Tis follow, follow, ah, weladay, 

The wind hath blown her voice away — 

Prosper listens in a spell, 

The chaunt hath broke, and only the sound 

Of the muffled, distant buoy-bell 

To show the tide is gaining ground. 

Ah, sweet the bell, some witch's spell 

Hath surely sounded Prosper's knell. 

For still he moveth never on. 

Nay, listen, Hsten, she lifteth yet 

Her voice above the bell's far ringing. 

And Prosper, standing like a stone, 

Hearkeneth her singing. 

"Red is the coral under the sea. 
And round it the bright fishes swim: 
My love he cometh not to me 
And ever I must wait for him, 



Her song 
seemeth to be 
of an earthly 
woman who 
waited on the 
shore for her 
lover, and who, 
when after 
long watching 
she found 
him not, 
vanished Into 
the sea. 



The tide 
Cometh in, 
but Prosper 
is under the 
spell of her 
singing and 
heedeth not. 



340 



Southern Literary Readings 



The song of 
one who yet 
walteth in the 
sea for her 
love. 



White coral grows the red among. 
And pale sea-grasses float along. 
And will he never hear my song 
And come away with mef 



105 



Meseems the last word hath not died, 
Ere Prosper springeth to her side, 
In her blue eyes he hath found 
Sea-lights changing momently, 
Her silken lashes fringing round 
Like shadows on the sea. 



"Dost know me not ? " she saith. 
'Tis long I waited thee." 



Ah. 



me, 



The lovers 
And, each lover 
his beloved ; 
and Prosper Is 
wildered at 
the change In 
his beloved. 



"Nay, the first song showeth thou art thou, 
Thou that didst love me, even thou, 
But I am wildered I know not how. 
For thou singest burthens strange, 
Strange are* thy garments, all is strange. 
Sure thou hast suffered some sea-change. " 



She sayeth 
how for lack 
of him she 
called on 
Death, and 
how she sank 
down to the 
ocean floor 
and the palace 
of the sea-king. 



"Thou camest not for evermore 

To me on the lone shore. 

I said, *If I call him loud he will hear 

Ere the long day come and go, 

Prospero, Prospero. 

O round moon rising out of the dark 

Bearest my love in thy yellow bark?* 

The white-capped breakers have heard my moan, 

The breakers whisper under their breath 

'Death, Death!* 

The sad sea- voices moaned and called. 

'Twas down, down, straight down 



Gofdia 



341 



To regions where the shifting air 

Was Hquid emerald. 

I sat by the sea-king's windows all day 

And saw the idle sea-folk pass, 

And watched the haunted wrecks drift by, 

But thine came not, alas. 

It was an elvish light from heaven, 

With a bright blur for the sun, 

And the charmed moon at even 

Rising through the unfathomed green. 

Seemed a far-off shadow-sheen. 

In the sea-groves I called thee loud and low, 

Prospero ! 

And the sea-king hath heard my cry, and saith 

*I would not have thee sorrow so. 

He shall have sea-life after death, 



And the king 
of the sea 



And come home to thee, never fear, ufvS^tolie?.'' 

If thou waitest seven year.' " 



Then who hath known him greater bliss, 

Or dear delight to follow pain? 

For heart hath never joy, I wis, 

Like lovers met again. 

The dawn is in the pallid skies, 

She wreathes a circlet on his brow 

Of pearls and sea-anemones; 

She leaneth lower to him now, 

And long she kisseth him, till lo! 

The sea-lights come into his eyes. 

The tide it crawleth gradually, 

And down together will they go 

To the green fields of the sea. 



Her kiss 
changeth 
Prosper to a 
merman, and 
together they 
will go down 
to the fields of 
the sea. 



'Tis follow, follow, ah, welaway, 



^42 Southern Literary Readings 

Who knoweth when 'ti&trae love's day? 
Out of the deeps come joy and pain, 
Into the deeps forever fain, 
Who knoweth when they go again? 
The fishers on the lone dun sand 
Will never see his figure looming; 
The moon it riseth; on the strand 
The great waves booming, booming! 



The foolish 
folk who know 
not 'tis true 
love's day, 
will say that 
Gordia hath 
wickedly 
enchanted 
young Prosper. 



It was an idle, weary day. 

Their dim-flared lanthorns with them bringing. 

Homeward they turn them one by one. 

" Jesu pity him," they say, 

"For this with her wild, witch's singing 

Gordia hath done. ' ' 



TEXAS HEROES 



Sons of a land betrayed and wronged are they," 
Whose feet are set to the immortal height — 
The draggled columns in whose desperate might 

The Saxon blood hath voiced itself to-day; 

And thou, Martin, whose thirty cut their way 
Through hostile lines with succour in the night ; 
And thou, brave Bonham, who returned to fight 

And die beside thy comrades in the fray; 
Mild Austin, who of duty knew the worth. 

And unto others gave the laurel wreath; 

And Houston, burly chief of wit and brawn, 
The Atlas of his little Western earth; 

And Travis last, who opened unto death 

As one that heard Christ calling through the dawn. 




From a photograph by Paul Thompsun, N.Y. 
O. HENRY 



O. HENRY 

The real name of O. Henry was William Sydney Porter. 
He was born in Greensboro, North Carolina, in 1864. 
Little has as yet been published about his life, but we 
know that sometime in his teens he went to Texas, where 
for nearly three years he worked on a sheep ranch in 
La Salle County. Later his experience here stood him 
in good stead, for the scenes of some of his best stories 
are laid in this southwestern ranch country. Will Porter 
was determined to improve himself, and even on the 
ranch he kept beside him constantly a copy of Webster's 
Dictionary, poring over it hour after hour and day after 
day. O. Henry's wonderfully broad and accurate vocabu- 
lary is doubtless due in large measure to his strange habit 
of reading the dictionary. Besides, from childhood he 
was a great reader, devouring everything that came in 
his way, from Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy to count- 
less modem novels. He preferred the companionship 
of books to the sports and games of his playfellows, and 
was always ready to seek the shade of some solitary 
tree or retire to the loneliness of his own room to find 
opportunity for quiet reading. 

When a chance came for him to leave the ranch and 
enter upon more congenial work he accepted it. He 
went to Austin, Texas, and for four years made his home 
with the family of Mr. Joe Harrell. There were several 
boys in this family, who used to tell wonderftd tales of 
Will Porter's ability to spell and define words. At this 
time the youth also developed a gift for sketching with 
pen and ink. After working for a few years in the State 
Land Office he went to Houston, where he became a 
reporter on the Post, for the most part writing material 
for a humorous column. Later returning to Austin, 
he attempted to establish a small literary and political 
weekly, which he called the Rolling Stone. He wrote 
the copy, drew the cartoons, set the type, and read the 

[343] 



J44 Southern Literary Readings 

proof for this paper for a few numbers; but in spite of 
its cleverness, the publication was suspended for lack 
of financial support. 

A position in the old First National Bank of Austin 
was then offered to the young man. Here misfortune 
overtook him, and for six years his life was under a cloud. 
He finally left Texas and went to Central America to 
engage in the fruit trade. This venture proved a failure 
financially, but furnished experiences afterward turned to 
account in stories dealing with Central American life, 
most of which are now to be found in Cabbages and Kings. 

During all these years he had clung to his ambition to 
become a writer, and he now went to New Orleans to 
devote himself to what he felt was his life calling. Besides 
doing some local newspaper work, he tried his hand at 
short stories. He is said to have selected his pseu- 
donym haphazard, choosing *' Henry" simply because his 
eye chanced to fall on that name in a newspaper, and 
prefixing the initial O. as the easiest letter to form. 

From New Orleans O. Henry was attracted, about 
1902, to New York City, and in the last ten years of his 
life he turned out with amazing rapidity, considering the 
quality of his work, piore than one hundred fifty stories, 
covering a wide range of scene, character, and subject 
matter. Concerning his method of work, he said that he 
first studied out his subject carefully and knew exactly 
what he was going to say before he began to write; then 
he wrote his manuscript rapidly, and rarely or never 
revised. 

O. Henry died in New York in 19 10, having won for 
himself a secure if not a lofty place in the world of Ameri- 
can fiction. The chief qualities of his work are natu- 
ralism and realism mingled with romance, a distinct 
note of original humor, a warm human sympathy, and 
an occasional touch of deep pathos. The Four Million, 
dealing with New York life, and Heart of the West, por- 
traying life in Texas and the Southwest, contain some of 
his most characteristic work. 



THE GIFT OF THE MAGI 

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And 
sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and 
two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable 
man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the 
silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing 5 
implied. Three times Delia counted it. One dollar and 
eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas. 

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the 
shabby little couch and howl. So Delia did it. Which 
instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, 10 
sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating. 

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding 
from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. 
A furnished fiat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar 
description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout 15 
for the mendicancy squad. 

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no 
letter would go, and an electric button from which no 
mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining 
thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James 20 
Dillingham Young." 

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during 
a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being 
paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk 
to $20, the letters of "Dillingham" looked blurred, as 25 
though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a 
modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James 
Dillingham Young came home and reached his fiat above 
he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James 

[345] 



J4^ Southern Literary Readings 

80 Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Delia. 
Which is all very good. 

Delia finished her cry and attended her cheeks with the 
powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out 
dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence in a grey backyard. 

35 To-morrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only 
$1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been 
saving every penny she could for months, with this result. 
Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had 
been greater than she had calculated. They always are. 

40 Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many 
a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice 
for him. Something fine and rare and sterling — some- 
thing just a little bit near to being worthy of the 
honour of being owned by Jim. 

45 There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. 
Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 fiat. A very 
thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection 
in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly 
accurate conception .of his looks. Delia, being slender, 

soliad mastered the art. 

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before 
the glass. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face 
had lost its colour within twenty seconds. Rapidly she 
pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length. 

55 Now, there were two possessions of the James Dilling- 
ham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. 
One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and 
his grandfather's. The other was Delia's hair. Had the 
Queen of Sheba lived in the fiat across the airshaft, Delia 

60 would have let her hair hang out the window some day 
to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. 
Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures 
piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his 



The Gift of the Magi 347 

watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his 
beard from envy. es 

So now Delia's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and - 
shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below 
her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And 
then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once 
she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two 70 
splashed on the worn red carpet. 

On went her old brown jacket ; on went her old brown hat. 
With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still 
in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs 
to the street. 75 

Where she stopped the sign read: *'Mme. Sofronie. 
Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Delia ran, and 
collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, 
chilly, hardly looked the ''Sofronie." 

"Will you buy my hair? " asked Delia. so 

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and 
let 's have a sight at the looks of it." 

Down rippled the brown cascade. 

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with 
a practiced hand. ss 

"Give it to me quick," said Delia. 

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. 
Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the 
stores for Jim's present. 

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim 90 
and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the 
stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was 
a platinum fob chain, simple and chaste in design, properly 
proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by 
meretricious ornamentation — as all good things should os 
do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she 
saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. 



J4S Southern Literary Readings 

Quietness and value — the description applied to both. 
Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and slie 

100 hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his 
watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any 
company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked 
at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap he used 
in place of a chain. 

105 When Delia reached home her intoxication gave way a 
little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling 
irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the 
ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is 
always a tremendous task, dear friends — a mammoth task. 

110 Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, 
close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a 
truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the 
mirror, long, carefully, and critically. 

" If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he 

115 takes a second look at me, he 11 say I look like a Coney 
Island chorus girl. But what could I do — oh! what 
could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?" 

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was 
on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops. 

120 Jim was never late. Delia doubled the fob chain in her 
hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that 
he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair 
away down on the first flight, and she turned white for 
just a moment. She had a habit of saying little silent 

125 prayers about the simplest everyday things, and now she 
whispered: "Please, God, make him think I am still 
pretty." 

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He 
looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only 

130 twenty-two — and to be burdened with a family! He 
needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves. 



The Gift of the Magi J4g 

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter 
at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Delia, and 
there was an expression in them that she could not read, 
and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor 135 
disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she 
had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly , 
with that peculiar expression on his face. 

Delia wriggled off the table and went for him. 

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. 140 
I had my hair cut off and sold it because I couldn't live 
through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll 
grow out again — you won't mind, will you? I just had to 
do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry Christ- 
mas,' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a 145 
nice — what a beautiful, nice gift I 've got for you." 

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim laboriously, as 
if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet, even after 
the hardest mental labour. 

"Cut it off and sold it," said Delia. " Don't you like me 150 
just as well, anyhow? I 'm me without my hair, ain't I ? " 

Jim looked about the room curiously. 

"You say your hair is gone? " he said, with an air almost 
of idiocy. 

"You needn't look for it," said Delia. "It's sold, 1 155 
tell you — sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. 
Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of 
my head were numbered," she went on with a sudden 
serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love 
for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim ? " leo 

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He 
enfolded his Delia. For ten seconds let us regard with 
discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other 
direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year — what 
is the difference ? A mathematician or a wit would give les 



550 Southern Literary Readings 

you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, 
but that was not among them. This dark assertion will 
be illuminated later on. 
Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw 

170 it upon the table. 

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, " about me. 
I don't think there is anything in the way of a haircut or a 
shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any 
less. But if you '11 unwrap that package you may see why 

175 you had me going a while at first." 

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. 
And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a 
quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, 
necessitating the immediate emplojrment of all the comf ort- 

180 ing powers of the lord of the flat. 

For there lay The Combs — the set of combs, side and 
back, that Delia had worshipped for long in a Broadway 
window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with 
jewelled rims — just the shade to wear in the beautiful 

185 vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, 
and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them 
without the least hope of possession. And now, they were 
hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted 
adornments were gone. 

190 But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she 
was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: 
"My hair grows so fast, Jim!" 

And then Delia leaped up like a little singed cat and 
cried, "Oh, oh!" 

195 Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it 
out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious 
metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and 
ardent spirit. 

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find 



A Chaparral Prince 351 

it. You '11 have to look at the time a hundred times a day 200 
now. Give me- your watch. I want to see how it looks 
on it." 

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch 
and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled. 

"Dell," said he, ''let 's put our Christmas presents away 205 
and keep 'em a while. They' re too nice to use just at pres- 
ent. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. 
And now suppose you put the chops on." 

The magi, as you know, were wise men — wonderfully 
wise men — who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. 210 
They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being 
wise, their gifts" were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing 
the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And 
here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle 
of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed 215 
for each other the greatest treasures of their house. But 
in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of 
all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who 
give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Every- 
where they are the wisest. They are the magi. 220 



A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 

Nine o'clock at last, and the drudging toil of the day 
was ended. Lena climbed to her room in the third half- 
story of the Quarrymen's Hotel. Since daylight she had 
slaved, doing the work of a full-grown woman, scrubbing 
the floors, washing the heavy ironstone plates and cups, 
making the beds, and supplying the insatiate demands for 
wood and water in that turbulent and depressing hostelry. 

The din of the day's quarrying was over — the blasting 



j^2 Southern Literary Readings 

and drilling, the creaking of the great cranes, the shouts 

10 of the foremen, the backing and shifting of the flat- 
cars hauling the heavy blocks of limestone. Down in 
the hotel office three or four of the labourers were growl- 
ing and swearing over a belated game of checkers. Heavy 
odours of stewed meat, hot grease, and cheap coffee hung 

15 like a depressing fog about the house. 

Lena lit the stump of a candle and sat limply upon her 
wooden chair. She was eleven years old, thin and ill- 
nourished. Her back and limbs were sore and aching. 
But the ache in her heart made the biggest trouble. The 

20 last straw had been added to the burden upon her small 
shoulders. They had taken away Grimm. Always at night, 
however tired she might be, she had turned to Grimm for 
comfort and hope. Each time had Grimm whispered to 
her that the prince or the fairy would come and deliver 

25 her out of the wicked enchantment. Every night she had 
taken fresh courage and strength from Grimm. 

To whatever tale she read she found an analogy in her 
own condition. The woodcutter's lost child, the unhappy 
goose girl, the persecuted stepdaughter, the little maiden 

30 imprisoned in the witch's hut — all these were but trans- 
parent disguises for Lena, the overworked kitchenmaid 
in the Quarrymen's Hotel. And always when the extrem- 
ity was direst came the good fairy or the gallant prince 
to the rescue. 

85 So, here in the ogre's castle, enslaved by a wicked spell, 
Lena had leaned upon Grimm and waited, longing for the 
powers of goodness to prevail. But on the day before 
Mrs. Maloney had found the book in her room and had 
carried it away, declaring sharply it would not do for serv- 

40 ants to read at night; they lost sleep and did not work 
briskly the next day. Can one only eleven years old, liv- 
ing away from one's mamma, and never having any time 



A Chaparral Prince 55J 

to play, live entirely deprived of Grimm ? Just try it once, 
and you will see what a difficult thing it is. 

Lena's home was in Texas, away up among the little 45 
mountains on the Pedernales River, in a little town 
called Fredericksburg. They are all German people who 
live in Fredericksburg. Of evenings they sit at little 
tables along the sidewalk and drink beer and play pinochle 
and scat. They are very thrifty people. 50 

Thriftiest among them was Peter Hildesmuller, Lena's 
father. And that is why Lena was sent to work in the 
hotel at the quarries, thirty miles away. She earned 
three dollars every week there, and Peter added her 
wages to his well-guarded store. Peter had an ambition 55 
to become as rich as his neighbour, Hugo Heffelbauer, 
who smoked a meerschaum pipe three feet long and 
had wiener schnitzel and hasenpfeffer for dinner every 
day in the week. And now Lena was quite old enough 
to work and assist in the accumulation of riches. But eo 
conjecture, if you can, what it means to be sentenced at 
eleven years of age from a home in the pleasant little Rhine 
village to hard labour in the ogre's castle, where you must 
fly to serve the ogres, while they devour cattle and sheep, 
growling fiercely as they stamp white limestone dustes 
from their great shoes for you to sweep and scour with your 
weak, aching fingers. And then — to have Grimm taken 
away from you! 

Lena raised the lid of an old empty case that had once 
contained canned corn and got out a sheet of paper and 70 
a piece of pencil. She was going to write a letter to her 
mamma. Tommy Ryan was going to post it ior her 
at Ballinger's. Tommy was seventeen, worked in the 
quarries, went home to Ballinger's every night, and was 
now waiting in the shadows under Lena's window for her 75 
to throw the letter out to him. That was the only way 

23 



j^4 Southern Literary Readings 

she could send a letter to Fredericksburg. Mrs. Maloney 
did not like for her to write letters. 

The stump of candle was burning low, so Lena hastily 
80 bit the wood from around the lead of her pencil and 
began. This is the letter she wrote : 

"Dearest Mamma: — I want so much to see you. And Gretel and 
Claus and Heinrich and little Adolf. I am so tired. I want to 
see you. To-day I was slapped by Mrs. Maloney and had no supi- 

85 per. I could not bring in enough wood, for my hand hurt. She 
took my book yesterday. I mean 'Grimms's Fairy Tales,' which 
Uncle Leo gave me. It did not hurt any one for me to read the 
book. I try to work as well as I can, but there is so much to do. 
I read only a little bit every night. Dear mamma, I shall tell you 

90 what I am going to do. Unless you send for me to-morrow to bring 
me home I shall go to a deep place I know in the river and drown. 
It is wicked to drown, I suppose, but I wanted to see you, and there 
is no one else. I am very tired, and Tommy is waiting for the let- 
ter. You will excuse me, mamma, if I do it. 

95 "Your respectful and loving daughter, 

"Lena." 

Tommy was still waiting faithfully when the letter was 
concluded, and when Lena dropped it out she saw him pick 
it up and start up the steep hillside. Without undressing, 

100 she blew out the candle and curled herself upon the mattress 
on the floor. 

At 10:30 o'clock old man Ballinger came out of his house 
in his stocking feet and leaned over the gate, smoking 
his pipe. He looked down the big road, white in the 

105 moonshine, and rubbed one ankle with the toe of his other 
foot. It was time for the Fredericksburg mail to come 
pattering up the road. 

Old man Ballinger had waited only a few minutes when 
he heard the lively hoofbeats of Fritz's team of little black 

110 mules, and very soon afterward his covered spring wagon 
stood in front of the gate. Fritz's big spectacles flashed 



A Chaparral Prince 355 

in the moonlight and his tremendous voice shouted a 
greeting to the postmaster of BalHnger's. The mail- 
carrier jumped out and took the bridles from the mules, 
for he always fed them oats at BalHnger's. 115 

While the mules were eating from their feed bags, old 
man BalHnger brought out the mail sack and threw it into 
the wagon. 

Fritz Bergmann was a man of three sentiments — or to 
be more accurate — four, the pair of mules deserving to 120 
be reckoned individually. Those mules were the chief 
interest and joy of his existence. Next came the Emperor 
of Germany and Lena Hildesmuller. 

"Tell me," said Fritz, when he was ready to start, "con- 
tains the sack a letter to Frau Hildesmuller from the 125 
little Lena at the quarries? One came in the last mail 
to say that she is a little sick, already. Her mamma is 
very anxious to hear again." 

"Yes," said old man BalHnger, "thar's a letter for 
Mrs. Helterskelter, or some sich name. Tommy Ryan 130 
brung it over when he come. Her little gal workin' over 
thar, you say?" 

"In the hotel," shouted Fritz, as he gathered up the 
lines; "eleven years old and not bigger as a frankfurter. 
The close-fist of a Peter Hildesmuller! — some day shall 1 135 
with a big club pound that man's dummkopf — all in and 
out the town. Perhaps in this letter Lena will say that 
she is yet feeling better. So, her mamma will be glad. 
Auf wiedersehen, Herr BalHnger — your feets will take cold 
out in the night air." ho 

"So long, Fritzy," said old man BalHnger. "You got 
a nice cool night for your drive." 

Up the road went the little black mules at their steady 
trot, while Fritz thundered at them occasional words of 
endearment and cheer. 145 



j^6 Southern Literary Readings 

These fancies occupied the mind of the mail-carrier until 
he reached the big post oak forest, eight miles from 
Ballinger's. Here his ruminations were scattered by the 
sudden flash and report of pistols and a whooping as if 
150 from a whole tribe of Indians. A band of galloping cen- 
taurs closed in around the mail wagon. One of them 
leaned over the front wheel, covered the driver with his 
revolver, and ordered him to stop. Others caught at 
the bridles of Bonder and Blitzen. 
155 " Donnerwetter ! " shouted Fritz, with all his tremen- 
dous voice — "was ist? Release your hands from dose 
mules. Ve vas der United States mail!" 

"Hurry up, Dutch!" drawled a melancholy voice. 
"Don't you know when you're in a stick-up? Reverse 
160 your mules and climb out of the cart." 

It is due to the breadth of Hondo Bill's demerit and the 
largeness of his achievements to state that the holding 
up of the Fredericksburg mail was not perpetrated by way 
of an exploit. As the lion while in the pursuit of prey 
165 commensurate to his prowess might set a frivolous foot 
upon a casual rabbit in his path, so Hondo Bill and his 
gang had swooped sportively upon the pacific transport 
of Meinherr Fritz. 
The real work of their sinister night ride was over. 
170 Fritz and his mail bag and his mules came as a gentle 
relaxation, grateful after the arduous duties of their 
profession. Twenty miles to the southeast stood a train 
with a killed engine, hysterical passengers and a looted 
express and mail car. That represented the serious occu- 
rs pation of Hondo Bill and his gang. With a fairly rich 
prize of currency and silver the robbers were making a 
wide detour to the west through the less populous country, 
intending to seek safety in Mexico by means of some ford- 
able spot on the Rio Grande. The booty from the train 



A Chaparral Prince jj^ 

had melted the desperate bushrangers to jovial and iso 
happy skylarkers. 

Trembling with outraged dignity and no httle personal 
apprehension, Fritz climbed out to the road after replacing 
his suddenly removed spectacles. The band had dis- 
mounted and were singing, capering, and whooping, thus i85 
expressing their satisfied delight in the life of a jolly out- 
law. Rattlesnake Rogers, who stood at the heads of 
the mules, jerked a little too vigorously at the rein of the 
tender-mouthed Bonder, who reared and emitted a loud, 
protesting snort of pain. Instantly Fritz, with a scream loo 
of anger, flew at the bulky Rogers and began to assidu- 
ously pommel that surprised freebooter with his fists. 

"Villain!" shouted Fritz, "dog, bigstiff ! Dot mule he 
has a soreness by his mouth. I vill knock off your shoul- 
ders mit your head — robbermans!" 195 

"Yi-yi!" howled Rattlesnake, roaring with laughter 
and ducking his head, "somebody git this here sauerkrout 
off 'n me!" 

One of the band yanked Fritz back by the coat-tail, and 
the woods rang with Rattlesnake's vociferous comments. 200 

"The . . . little wienerwurst," he yelled, amiably. 
"He's not so much of a skunk, for a Dutchman. Took 
up for his animile plum quick, didn't he? I like to see a 
man like his hoss, even if it is a mule. The dad-blamed 
little Limburger, he went for me, didn't he! Whoa, now, 205 
muley — I ain't a-goin' to hurt your mouth agin any more." 

Perhaps the mail would not have been tampered with 
had not Ben Moody, the lieutenant, possessed certain 
wisdom that seemed to promise more spoils. 

"Say, Cap," he said, addressing Hondo Bill, "there '3210 
liable to be good pickings in these mail sacks. I 've done 
some hoss tradin' with these Dutchmen around Fredericks- 
burg, and I know the style of the varmints. There 's big 



j^8 Southern Literary Readings 

money goes through the mails to that town. Them Dutch 

215 risk a thousand dollars sent wrapped in a piece of paper 
before they 'd pay the banks to handle the money. ' ' 

Hondo Bill, six feet two, gentle of voice and impulsive 
in action, was dragging the sacks from the rear of the wagon 
before Moody had finished his speech. A knife shone in 

220 his hand, and they heard the ripping sound as it bit 
through the tough canvas. The outlaws crowded around 
and began tearing open letters and packages, enlivening 
their labours by swearing affably at the writers, who 
seemed to have conspired to confute the prediction of Ben 

226 Moody. Not a dollar was found in the Fredericksburg 
mail. 

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," said Hondo Bill, 
to the mail-carrier in solemn tones, "to be packing around 
such a lot of old, trashy paper as this. What d'yoii 

230 mean by it, anyhow? Where do you Butchers keep your 
money at?" 

The Ballinger mail sack opened like a cocoon under 
Hondo's knife. It contained but a handful of mail. 
Fritz had been fuming with terror and excitement until 

235 this sack was reached. He now remembered Lena's 
letter. He addressed the leader of the band, asking that 
that particular missive be spared. 

"Much obliged, Dutch," he said to the disturbed carrier. 
"I guess that's the letter we want. Got spondulicks in 

240 it, ain't it? Here she is. Make a light, boys." 

Hondo found and tore open the letter to Mrs. Hildes- 
muller. The others stood about, lighting twisted-up 
letters one from another. Hondo gazed with mute dis- 
approval at the single sheet of paper covered with the 

245 angular German script. 

"Whatever is this you've himibugged us with, Dutchy? 
You call this here a valuable letter? That's a mighty 



A Chaparral Prince j^g 

low-down trick to play on your friends what come along 
to help you distribute your mail. ' ' 

''That's Chiny writin,' " said Sandy Grundy, peering 250 
over Hondo's shoulder. 

''You're off your kazip," declared another pf the gang, 
an effective youth, covered with silk handkerchiefs and 
nickel plating. "That's shorthand. I seen 'em do it 
once in court." 255 

"Ach, no, no, no — d^t is German," said Fritz. "It 
is no more as a little girl writing a letter to her mamma. 
One poor little girl, sick and vorking hard avay from 
home. Ach! it is a shame. Good Mr. Robberman, you 
vill please let me have dot letter ? " 260 

"What the devil do you take us for, old Pretzels?" 
said Hondo with sudden and surprising severity. "You 
ain't presumin' to insinuate that we gents ain't possessed 
of sufficient politeness for to take an interest in the miss's 
health, are you? Now, you go on, and you read that 265 
scratchin' out loud and in plain United States language . 
to this here company of educated society." 

Hondo twirled his six-shooter by its trigger guard and 
stood towering above the little German, who at once began 
to read the letter, translating the simple words into Eng- 270 
lish. The gang of rovers stood in absolute silence, listen- 
ing intently. 

"How old is that kid?" asked Hondo when the letter 
was done. 

"Eleven," said Fritz. 275 

"And where is she at?" 

"At dose rock quarries — working. Ach, mein Gott — 
little Lena, she speak of drowning. I do not know if she 
vill do it, but if she shall I schwear I vill dot Peter Hildes- 
muller shoot mit a gun." 280 

"You Dutchers," said Hondo Bill, his voice swelling 



j6o Southern Literary Readings 

with fine contempt, "make me plenty tired. Hirin' out 
your kids to work when they ought to be playin' dolls 
in the sand. ... I reckon we'll fix your clock for a 

285 while just to show what we think of your old cheesy 
nation. Here, boys!" 

Hondo Bill parleyed aside briefly with his band, and then 

. they seized Fritz and conveyed him off the road to one 
side. Here they bound him fast to a tree with a couple 

290 of lariats. His team they tied to another tree near by. 
"We ain't going to hurt you bad," said Hondo reassur- 
ingly. " 'T won't hurt you to be tied up for a while. We 
will now pass you the time of day, as it is up to us to 
depart. Ausgespielt — nixcumrous, Dutchy. Don't get 

295 any more impatience." 

Fritz heard a great squeaking of saddles as the men 
mounted their horses. Then a loud yell and a great 
clatter of hoofs as they galloped pell-mell back along the 
Fredericksburg road. 

300 For more than two hours Fritz sat against his tree, 
tightly but not painfully bound. Then from the reaction 
after his exciting adventure he sank into slumber. How 
long he slept he knew not, but he was at last awakened by 
a rough shake. Hands were untying his ropes. He was 

305 lifted to his feet, dazed, confused in mind, and weary of 
body. Rubbing his eyes, he looked and saw that he was 
again in the midst of the same band of terrible bandits. 
They shoved him up to the seat of his wagon and placed 
the lines in his hands. 

310 "Hit it out for home, Dutch," said Hondo Bill's voice 
commandingly. "You've given us lots of trouble and 
we 're pleased to see the back of your neck. Spiel ! Zwei 
bier! Vamoose!" 

Hondo reached out and gave Blitzen a smart cut with 

315 his quirt. The little mules sprang ahead, glad to be 



A Chaparral Prince j6i 

moving again. Fritz urged them along, himself dizzy and 
muddled over his fearful adventure. 

According to schedule time, he should have reached 
Fredericksburg at daylight. As it was, he drove down 
the long street of the town at eleven o'clock a.m. He had 320 
to pass Peter Hildesmuller's house on his way to the post- 
office. He stopped his team at the gate and called. But 
Frau HildesmuUer was watching for him. Out rushed the 
whole family of Hildesmullers. 

Frau HildesmuUer, fat and flushed, inquired if he had a 32s 
letter from Lena, and then Fritz raised his voice and told 
the tale of his adventure. He told the contents of the 
letter that the robber had made him read, and then Frau 
HildesmuUer broke into wild weeping. Her little Lena 
drown herself ! Why had they sent her from home ? What 330 
could be done ? Perhaps it would be too late by the time 
they could send for her now. Peter HildesmuUer dropped 
his meerschaum on the walk and it shivered into pieces. 

"Woman!" he roared at his wife, "why did you let 
that child go away? It is your fault if she comes home 335 
to us no more." 

Every one knew that it was Peter Hildesmuller's fault, 
so they paid no attention to his words. 

A moment afterward a strange, faint voice was heard 
to call: "Mamma!" Frau HildesmuUer at first thought it 340 
was Lena's spirit calling, and then she rushed to the rear 
of Fritz's covered wagon, and, with a loud shriek of joy, 
caught up Lena herself, covering her pale little face with 
kisses and smothering her with hugs. Lena's eyes were 
heavy with the deep slumber of exhaustion, but she 345 
smiled and lay close to the one she had longed to see. 
There among the mail sacks, covered in a nest of strange 
blankets and comforters, she had lain asleep until awakened 
by the voices around her. 



^62 Southern Literary Readings 

350 Fritz stared at her with eyes that bulged behind his 
spectacles. 

*'Gott in Himmel!" he shouted. ''How did you get 
in that wagon? Arn I going crazy as well as to be mur- 
dered and hanged by robbers this day?" 
355 "You brought her to us, Fritz," cried Herr Hildes- 
muller. "How can we ever thank you enough?" 

"Tell mamma how you came in Fritz's wagon," said 
Frau HildesmuUer. 

"I don't know," said Lena. "But I know how I got 
360 away from the hotel. The Prince brought me." 

"By the Emperor's crown!" shouted Fritz, "we are 
all going crazy." 

"I always knew he would come," said Lena, sitting 
down on her bundle of bedclothes on the sidewalk. " Last 
365 night he came with his armed knights and captured the 
ogre's castle. They broke the dishes and kicked down 
the doors. They pitched Mr. Maloney into a barrel of 
rain water and threw flour all over Mrs. Maloney. The 
workmen in the hotel jumped out of the windows and ran 
370 into the woods when the knights began firing their guns. 
They wakened me up and I peeped down the stair. And 
then the Prince came up and wrapped me in the bedclothes 
and carried me out. He was so tall and strong and fine. 
His face was as rough as a scrubbing brush, and he talked 
375 soft and kind and smelled of schnapps. He took me on 
his horse before him and we rode away among the knights. 
He held me close and I went to sleep that way, and did n't 
wake up till I got home. ' ' 

" Rubbish ! ' ' cried Fritz Bergmann. ' ' Fairy tales ! How 
380 did you come from the quarries to my wagon?" 

"The Prince brought me," said Lena, confidently. 
And to this day the good people of Fredericksburg 
haven't been able to make her give any other explanation. 



HILTON ROSS GREER 

Hilton Ross Greer was bom in the little hamlet of 
Hawkins, in the heart of the northeast Texas woods, on 
December lo, 1878. He was left fatherless in infancy, 
and his mother removed with her family to Pittsburg, 
Texas, where the boy spent the formative period of his 
life. Reared under the tutelage of his mother, a teacher 
of rare mental attainments and moral strength, he entered 
the schoolroom at the early age of four years. He fin- 
ished the school course at the age of thirteen, graduating 
as the youngest in his class. Young Greer was at once 
forced into the commercial life of his home town, but after 
a few years he entered the field of journalism and is 
now managing editor of the Amarillo News. For a time 
Mr. Greer, like O. Henry, was employed as a clerk in the 
State Land Office at Austin, and at this period he took 
up some special work in the University of Texas. His 
health began to fail, however, and he went away into 
the southwest Texas country for rest and recuperation, 
but soon returned to active newspaper work. During 
all these years he has followed consistently his bent 
toward poetry, writing lyric and narrative poems that 
have called forth cordial commendation from reviewers 
in this country and abroad. 

The chief characteristics of Mr. Greer's verse are its 
lyrical sweetness and rich melody. He sings with a spon- 
taneity and rush of feeling which beget confidence and 
answering melody in the hearts of his readers. His 
ear for true cadences and musical combinations is very 
keen, and he rarely allows a false note or discord to creep 
into his verses. In onomatapoeia and alliterative effects 
he reminds one of Poe, and in quaintness of diction and 
turn of phrase he is constantly suggesting Lanier. 



{363] 



A PRAIRIE PRAYER 

And this prayer I make 
Knowing that Nature never did betray 
The heart that loved her. — ^Wordsworth. 

Not crouched, a-cloistered, upon servile knee, 

With dull, down-groping eyes — 

But (no less reverently) 
Standing, beneath Thy searching noonday skies. 
With gaze uplifted, and with soul laid bare 
To the keen cleansing of Thy sun and air, 

I, Lord, with free, 
Full, frank, unfaltering tongue would speak with Thee: 

Worn with the world, with man-made wounds a-smart, 

That I might heal my heart, 
To these wide prairie solitudes I fled. 
Where — with no roof save Heaven overhead, 
Green Earth my house by day, by night my bed — 
I might ungyve my soul, too long unfree, 
And with clear eye that did but dimly see 
Through the Time's trade-fogged, creed-clogged airs, 
Roving fair Nature's face, not unawares 
Might look on Thine, O Lord, nor blinded be : 
And with tense ear might heed 'neath Nature's tone 
The deepmost underword that is Thine own. 

And I have heard and seen Thee. Earth and sky 
Close confidants of spirit-ear and eye, 

Noon-clear to me 
Have voiced and visioned Thee most humanly. 

[364] 



A Prairie Prayer 365 

Yea, e'en the least of slenderest spears that stir 
Sunward finds tongue as Thine interpreter : 
Blue blossom-script that stars the page I scan, 
In fragrant phrase proclaims God loveth Man; 

And outward, lo ! 
Beyond all bounds the finite thought may span, 
Sweep these vast plains, a seeming sea that rounds 
And rounds — on — on — in undulations dim 
Toward Earth's last, loneliest, utmost, edgemost rim ! 
Yet this wide, awful sea hath certain bounds — 
Thy will hath fixed, Thy hand hath set them so: 

Only Thy love, I know. 
For Thy poor, needy kinsman, cramped below, 
Thy pity for his poignant soul-distress. 
Thy largeness, shaming all his littleness. 
Are what these prairies seem, unbounded, limitless ! 

This have Thy prairies taught. And ere I go 
Back to my world to bear a braver part. 
Let me ensky them ever with my heart ! 
Nay, Lord, refashion me, reshape me so, 

My soul, new-made, shall be >. 

A prairie, broad and free, 
With sun- warmed space for all humanity : 
Let winds of Purpose sweep it clean each morn 
Of ills outworn and doubtings shadow-bom : 
Let Faith spring lushly after storms of pain, ; 

As grasses after rain : 
Let selfless aim and generous intent 
Burst into blossom, rich and redolent : 
Let thoughts, like teeming flocks, find large increase, 

Full-rounded grow, and strong, j 

That from their goodly fleece 

The honest weaver, Art, 



j66 Southern Literary Readings 

May shape some rare enduring cloth of song, 
To cloak keen winter from one shrinking heart : 
And lastly, let such deep serenity 
As this rapt peace of noonday fold it in 
Throughout all times of tumult that may be : 
Yea, make my soul a prairie, Lord. Amen. 



A MOCKBIRD MATINEE 

Ever spend an afternoon 
Of a day in jocund June 
At a mockbird matinee ? 
Never ? Honest ? Well-a-day ! 
Where 've you lived, sir, anyway? 

There 's no hint of trade or town 
In the path one loiters down ; 
Not a thought of shops or desks 
Where the sun weaves arabesques, 
Fragile-fair and fairy-hued. 
In the wood's still solitude; 
Not a thing but God's pure air. 
Shine and shadow ever5rwhere ! 

Pick yourself a mossy seat 

In some dim and cool retreat. 

And with sighs of deep content. 

Settle down, all indolent. 

With your head against the trunk 

Of some hoary forest monk : 

Bare your forehead while the breeze 

Plies its gentle ministries : 



A Mockhird Matinee ^6^ 

Close your eyes in rapture deep, 

Feel yourself ^row sleepy — -sleep — 

Then, a-sudden — hist! astir 

From some hidden chorister, 

As along a branching spray 

Where the sunbeams plash and play 

Fares he forth in modest coat, 

Flinging from his throbbing throat 

Clear cascades of tinkling song, 

Silver-sweet and subtle-strong : 

Strains of soul-compelling sound. 

Streams of symphony unbound : 

Lures of lyric riotry, 

Miracles of melody, 

Soft at times, and sweet and low 

As the slow and measured flow 

Of some placid river-tide 

Through warm meadows, lush and wide : 

Or some breast aflame, afire. 

Wild with passion, hot desire. 

High and high and high and higher. 

Leap the frantic notes until 

Fen and forest, haunt and hill. 

Pulse and pant and throb and thrill, 

Overawed and overcome 

By the keen delirium ! 

Then, as if such riotings 

Had consumed symphonic springs, 

For a solemn space — a hush! i 

But once more a rhythmic gush. 

Flashing downward, fleet and free, 

Mad with mirthful minstrelsy : 

Ravishing the raptured ear 



J 68 Southern Literary Readings 

With a cadence crystal-clear 
As the laugh of limpid rain 
In autumnal fields of grain : 
Stilling spirit-strife and stress 
With a rune of restf ulness : 
Purging blood and breast and brain 
Of their poignant pangs of pain : 
Rousing noble aims and true 
In the slumbrous soul of you ! 



WILLIAM LAWRENCE CHITTENDEN 

William Lawrence Chittenden, the poet-ranchman, was 
born in Montclair, New Jersey, March 23, 1862. After 
receiving a common-school education in his native town 
he removed to St. Louis, Missouri, to go into business. 
When he was twenty-five the fascination of ranch life 
led him to give up his work in the city and go farther 
west. , He took charge of a ranch in Jones County, Texas, 
and here for more than a dozen years he lived the life of 
a "cowman," galloping over the free prairies, following the 
trail, camping on the Divide, helping at the roundups, and 
attending the cowboys' Christmas balls. But all this time 
he was writing verses, "the offsprings," as he says, "of 
solitude — bom in idle hours on a Texas ranch." These 
were published in various newspapers and journals, and 
in 1893 h^ gathered the best of them into a volume called 
Ranch Verses. The vigor and freshness of material and 
the lively and rollicking style of the verse attracted favor- 
able notice ; and the public read the poems with evident 
relish and pleasure, no less than twelve editions being 
called for within as man}^ years. 

Mr. Chittenden has written society verse, personal 
poems, and some lyrics, but in his portrayal of Western 
ranch life lies his surest claim to literary fame. John A. 
Lomax in an essay on his work says: "He has caught 
the genuine spirit of the prairies as reflected in the low- 
ing cattle; the hooting owls; the howling cayotes; the 
whispering mesquite leaves; the moaning northers; the 
dull, brown, broad expanse of the wide-spread, eternal 
plains, dreary and big with the loneliness of the open sea." 

Since 1900 Mr. Chittenden has spent his time traveling 
in search of new material and fresh local color for the 
poetry which he is continually producing. In 1909 he 
published a volume, Bermuda Verses, voicing the beauties 
of the scenery around his home near Bailey's Bay on the 
Bermuda Islands. 

24 [j6p] 



THE RANCHMAN'S RIDE 

Hurrah for a ride on the prairies free, 

On a fiery, untamed steed, 
Where the curlews fly and the cayotes cry, 
And the fragrant breeze goes whispering by ; 

Hurrah ! and away with speed. 

With left hand light on the bridle-rein, • 

And saddle-girths cinched behind, 
With lariat tied at the pommers side, 
And lusty bronchos, true and tried, 

We 11 race with the whistling wind. 

We are off and away, like a flash of light 

As swift as the shooting star, 
As an arrow flies towards its distant prize. 
On ! on we whirl toward the shimmering skies ; 

Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! 

As free as a bird o'er billowy sea. 

We skim the flowered Divide, 
Like a seaniew strong we fly along, 
While the f;arth resounds with galloping song 

As we plunge through the fragrant tide. 

Avaunt with your rides in crowded towns ! 

Give me the prairies free, 
Where the curlews fly and the cayotes cry. 
And the heart expands 'neath the azure sky; 

Ah ! that 's the ride for me. 

I370] 



Old Fort Phantom Hill j'/i 

OLD FORT PHANTOAl HILL 

(An abandoned fort in Jones County, Texas. Supposed to he haunted.) 

To THE Veterans of the Blue and the Gray 

On the breezy Texas border, on the prairies far away, 
Where the antelope is grazing and the Spanish ponies 

play; 
Where the tawny cattle wander through the golden 

incensed hours, 
And the sunlight woos a landscape clothed in royal robes 

of flowers ; 
Where the Elm and Clear Fork mingle, as they journey 5 

to the sea, 
And the night-wind sobs sad stories o'er a wild and lonely 

lea; 
Where of old the dusky savage and the shaggy bison 

trod, 
And the reverent plains are sleeping 'midst drowsy dreams 

of God; 
Where the twilight loves to linger, e'er night's sable robes 

are cast 
'Round grim-ruined, spectral chimneys, telling stories of 10 

the past, 
There upon an airy mesa, close beside a whispering rill, 
There to-day you'll find the ruins of the Old Fort 

Phantom Hill. 

Years ago, so runs the legend, 'bout the year of 

Fifty-three, 
This old fort was first established by the gallant soldier, 

Lee; 
.And to-day the restless spirits of his proud and martial is 

band 



J 72 Southern Literary Readings 

Haunt those ghostly, gloomy chimneys in the Texas border 

land. 
There once every year at midnight, when the chilling 

Northers roar, 
And the storm-king breathes its thunder from the 

heights of Labrador, 
When the vaulted gloom re-echoes with the owl's 

" whit-tu-woo ! " 
20 And the stealthy cayote answers with his lonely, long 

"ki-oo!" 
Then strange phantoms flit in silence through the 

weeping mesquite vale, 
And the reveilles come sounding o'er the old McKenzie 

Trail, 
Then the muffled drums beat muster, and the bugles sadly 

trill, 
And the vanished soldiers gather 'round the heights of 

Phantom Hill. 

25 Then pale bivouac fJres are lighted and those gloomy 

chimneys glow, 
While the grizzled veterans muster from the taps of long ago, 
Lee and Johnston and McKenzie, Grant and Jackson, 

Custer, too, 
Gather there in peaceful silence waiting for their last 

review ; 
Blue and gray at length united on the high redoubts 

of fame, 
80 Soldiers all in one grand army, that will answer in God 's 

name. 
Yes, they rest on heights of glory in that fair, celestial 

world, 
"Where the war-drum throbs no longer, and the battle- 
flags are furled." 



Old Fort Phantom Hill jyj 

And to=day the birds are singing where was heard the 

cannon's roar, 
For the gentle doves are nesting 'midst those ruins of the 

war. 
Yes, the mocking-birds re-echo: "Peace on earth, to men 35 

good will," 
And the "swords are turned to ploughshares" in the 

land of Phantom Hill. 



HARRY STILLWELL EDWARDS 

One of the most popular of the later writers of fiction in 
the South is Harry Stillwell Edwards of Macon, Georgia. 
He was born in that city on April 3, 1855. Thrown on 
his own resources at an early age, he educated himself 
largely by night study while employed as a government 
clerk in Washington, D. C. He returned to Macon while 
yet in his teens and became a bookkeeper. He continued 
his night study and put in a part of his time at Mercer 
University, being graduated at the age of twenty-one 
from the law department of that university. He opened 
an office, but he seems to have been more interested in 
literature than in his law practice, and for several years 
he engaged in newspaper w^ork. In 1886 he began writing 
stories for the magazines, his first successful effort being 
Elder Brown's Backslide, published in Harper's Monthly. 
In 1896 his mystery story, Sons and Fathers, won the first 
prize in a ten-thou^nd-dollar prize-story contest con- 
ducted by the Chicago Record. He published another 
novel shortly after this, continuing a suggestion made in 
Sons and Fathers, and called it The Marbeau Cousins. 
Two volumes of collected short stories and a small sheaf 
of lyric poems complete the sum of Mr. Edwards's pub- 
lished work. Much of his prose has in it that touch of 
art which gives it rank as literature. 

Aside from Mr. Edwards's literary work, his family 
and his home — a beautiful country place just outside 
Macon — are the chief joys of his life. He is especially 
fond of children, and it is said that every child in Macon 
knows him. Since 1900 he has been postmaster of 
Macon; but his leisure moments are devoted to writing, 
and we may yet look forward to many excellent stories 
and poems from his pen. 



[374] 



"SHADOW" 
A Christmas Story 

A negro convict, awake, lay on his back in the log bar- 
racks. Wearied fonns stretched out in slumber in long 
lines to the right and left of him. A chain ran from his 
shackles, as from theirs, to a stout beam, holding him 
prisoner. 5 

He was only a boy when the shackles were riveted on his 
ankles, his crime an error born of ignorance and the lack 
of moral training. Six years had passed since, dazed and 
terrified, he had been led from the courthouse, and at 
twenty he still owed the State of Alabama fourteen years 10 
of servitude. Life for him had been fierce and full of 
agony. Down in the black darkness of coal-mines he had 
labored until accident made him useless and gave him back 
to daylight and the great green world above. Life then 
settled into the dull routine of the camp and a hostler' s is 
duties, the darkness behind him a nightmare, the days of 
his lost freedom a dream. The freedom to come was too 
far away for his imagination to compass. 

From the right and left of him came the deep breathing 
of tired men. Sleep with the convict is rest in the full 20 
and perfect significance of the word, and he plunges into it 
after his coarse evening meal as into a tide. That which 
kept the boy awake was necessarily something novel. It 
was not pain Had he not felt the lash and the crush of 
falling coal? Nor sorrow; for behind him, among the 25 
far-away Georgian hills, was a cabin about which as a child 
he had played, as all children play, and the sad, undying 
memory of it shut out all other sorrows. Nor was it a 

[375] 



2j6 Southern Literary Readings 

mere yearning for freedom; that had long since given 

30 place to a dull, unlifting despair. All these — sorrow, 
pain, and despair — had been the companions of his solitude 
in many a night of gloom, keeping watch as he slept. 
The strange new companion of his solitude, from whose 
divine presence this night all others withdrew, was Hope. 

35 As he lay, the darkness fell away beyond the radiance 
of his visitor, and three faces shone out as clearly as the 
white cloudlets in the blue of summer skies. Sunshine, 
Moonbeam, and Starlight stood by his side. 

Sunshine, Moonbeam, and Starlight! When all the 

40 branches and departments of the State government 
refugeed into the highlands away from the fever and 
beyond the vexations of quarantine, the convicts came to 
Wetumpka; and on days when the prison commissioner 
came to inspect the camp, with him were the three, each 

45 less than a dozen years of age. And Sunshine was the 
youngest of them all. 

"Take care of them, Shadow," he said to the hostler 
convict; and the bldck boy, with the memory of his 
"own white folks" far away filling his heart with joy, took 

50 care of them proudly and gratefully. Six years had passed 
since he had looked on childhood. Take care of them? 
Aye, if necessary, he would lay down his life for them. 
Instead, he rigged up swings of plow-lines, marked off 
hop-scotch diagrams for their little feet, and taught them 

55 how to ride on the back of a superannuated mule. He 
filled their hours with excitement and pleasure, and when 
they wearied of exercise, lying in the shade of a great oak, 
he touched their hearts with the story of his misfortunes. 
He drew for them graphic pictures of his terrible life in 

60 the coal-mines, of the men who work where eternal dark- 
ness reigns, and the accidents in which lives go out like 
the light of snuffed candles. And, looking over the hills, he 



"Shadow'' 377 

told, too, of that cabin where he was born; of his mammy 
at the wash-tub, singing hymns that Hnger now as the 
voices of dead slaves on old plantations; and of the "little es 
miss" and her child friends who came down to the **big 
white house" in the summer, and thence to the gin-house 
to play in the heaped-up cotton. Not a line of it all was 
gone from his memory, not a picture was blurred. 

And Sunshine, Moonbeam, and Starlight, touched by the 70 
divine pity which is eloquent in the hearts of women old 
and young, looked into the sad black face of their friend. 

" Good-by, Shadow, ' ' they said, when the quarantine was 
lifted and they had come for the last time. ** Good-by. 
We are going to get you out by Christmas. Only you 75 
must promise to be good, always. Will you?" And 
Shadow, with tears on his cheeks from eyes long dry, 
pledged himself before the good God looking down on 
them, his messengers, to be perfect forever and forever. 

And the memory of it all filled the darkness with a flood so 
of beauty, as though Sunshine, Moonbeam, and Starlight 
were indeed by his side. Not for a moment had he doubted 
them. So Hope furled her wings above him on Christmas 
Eve, and he lay waiting with wide-opened eyes. Sunshine, 
Moonbeam, and Starlight, where were they? The floor ss 
vibrated under the convict's head, a lantern flashed, and 
a guard stood over him. One word broke the silence — 
one word, his own name. 

"Shadow!" 

It was the day before Christmas, and nothing had been 90 
accomplished for Shadow. Freeing a convict was not the 
trivial matter imagined. The commissioner, besieged and 
wearied out of discretion, after many laughing refusals 
referred the little petitioners to the governor. They knew 
the governor. Almost daily they saw him pass on their 93 



57^ Southern Literary Readings 

block, and sometimes he laid a hand on a curly head in 
passing. But he never transacted lousiness outside his 
office, he said; never. And always he smiled and passed 
along. They must come and see him, he said. But the 

100 governor was never in when they called, timidly; at least 
he was never in sight. Then their last day of grace 
arrived, and they charged Capitol Hill once more. Ter- 
race and portico fell quickly before their assault. The 
historic spot where Jefferson Davis delivered his *'inaugu- 

105 ral " over the cradle of the great Confederacy, and launched 
the war which was to end in freedom for all the black 
people, was simply space to be crossed, and they crossed it. 
They carried their advance into the governor's room. 
They came without ceremony; and with the red of their 

110 country's flag on their cheeks, its blue within their eager 

eyes, and within their parted lips its gleaming white, they 

stormed his great chair, planted their victorious arms 

about him, and demanded an unconditional surrender. 

The governor seemed to yield. They made a transient 

115 summer in the still, cbld room and awoke a youth that long 
had slept within his heart — a youth full of romance and 
of love. Romance, love — are not these born ever under 
the sunshine, the moonbeams, and the starlight? The 
governor seemed to yield; he stroked each curly head and 

120 learned each name. He remembered when their respective 
parents were married. He knew more about them than 
did the little ones themselves. Then the crash came. 

"Pardon a convict? No." The man had not surren- 
dered. The smiling face faded into a grave, cold face. 

125 The governor they knew had vanished, and a new governor, 
grave, courteous, and firm, but not nearly so nice, had 
taken his place. 

But in the sunshine the ice is melted at last ; and in the 
moonbeams and the light of the stars love finds a way. 



''Shadow'' J7P 

Reason was powerless, refusal impotent. The illogical 130 
trinity sat on his knees and the arms of his chair and 
admitted all that he urged to be true. They agreed with 
him in his conception of a governor's duty; they even 
recognized the claims of good public policy to be against 
them ; and when he had finished they put their arms about iss 
him and asked mercy for their friend Shadow. 

"It wotdd not be so bad," said Sunshine, "if we hadn't 
promised." And the governor laughed. 

How potent is innocence, how weak at times is wisdom ! 
Driven from his positions one by one, the beleaguered uo 
governor took refuge behind the judicial ermine. Shadow 
had been placed in prison by the judge. The judge was 
really the man to be seen. It would never do for the 
governor arbitrarily to reverse the action of the judge. 
And then he sighed a great sigh of relief. Why had he 145 
not thought of that before? 

"Give us a letter to the judge, then," said Sunshine, 
sturdily. And she handed him his pen, point reversed. 

"Good!" said the governor. "Yes; he is the man 
you should see. Do you know the judge?" 150 

Yes, they knew the judge. Almost daily they saw him 
pass on their block, and sometimes he, too, laid a hand on 
their heads in passing. But they had never thought of 
asking his help in getting Shadow out. 

"If the judge says you may let him go," said Sunshine, 155 
with a tremulous little note in her voice, "will you do it?" 

"Aha!" exclaimed the governor, with apparent irrele- 
vancy. And yet it was pertinent and relevant. It meant, 
this little " aha " spoken to himself and the thoughts within 
him, that the logic of the situation had hemmed him in. 100 
He must say "Yes" or admit that he had been insincere. 
Then he remembered that a great murder trial was on, 
and approaching its close, and that even a telephone 



j8o Southern Literary Readings 

message could hardly make its way into the courthouse, 
165 so dense was the crowd. 

"Yes," he answered guardedly, "if the judge says I 

may, I shall have to do something for Shadow. But," 

he added, pitying their situation, "you cannot see the 

judge to-day. He is engaged in trying a man for his life, 

170 and hopes to get through before Christmas." 

The three answered not. Serenely they went forth. A 

friendly Irishman in a police uniform was at the foot of 

the steps dreaming day-dreams, perhaps of the "childer" 

at home. His smiling face was an invitation, and they 

175 asked him the way to the courthouse. 

" Coourthouse ? " he said. " Coourthouse ? An' why 
should the likes of ye babies that ye arre be huntin' for-r 
the coourthouse ? ' ' 

"They are trying a man for his life," said Sunshine, 
180 getting her logic mixed, "and we have a message to the 
judge from the governor!" The Irishman glanced at the 
official envelope and whistled. 
"An' is't imporr'nl??" he said. 

"It may get a man out of prison," said Sunshine, "if 
185 we can get there in time." 

"It's get there in time ye will," said the Irishman, 
"if I have to carry the last darlin' of ye in me arms an' 
on me head. Come along wid me ! " 

Every corridor, every foot of courtroom space, was 
190 occupied with excited men, and the way was blocked. 
Over the murmur of their voices rang the voice of the 
defendant's attorney as he pleaded for his client's life. 
A whisper ran through the crowd. The Irishman started 
it. They looked with wonder on the three dainty messen- 
i95gers, and opened a path for them. "Message from the 
governor?" What could it mean? The tension was at 
its highest pitch. The sheriff, lifting his hand at the 



"Shadow'' 381 

entrance \p the bar, waited until the judge's gavel fell, 
and repeated the whisper aloud — "a message from the 
governor, your Honor!" 200 

And up the aisle trudged the children, while a strange 
silence settled over the great throng; and in open contempt 
of court, they chmbed up to the judge and presented their 
credentials, all talking while the bewildered official read 
the message. A smile dawned on his stern face which 205 
echoed in silence from the crowd, if such things can be, 
while he wiped his glasses. 

"Suspend for five minutes," he said to the lawyer who 
had been speaking. The lawyer suspended willingly, and 
his unchanging gaze fixed on the children, kept the eyes 210 
of every juror riveted there. With the children by his 
side, the judge examined a record handed up by the clerk. 

"And did the governor send you to me with the note? " 
he asked, as he turned the pages. 

"Yes, sir," said Sunshine. "And he laughed too." 215 

"Oh, he laughed, did he?" The judge laughed, too. 
"I see, I see." And then he read from the record, " 'twenty 
years for robbery ! ' And he was a boy when it occurred ! ' ' 
He shook his head. "Yes, the sentence was too severe — 
too severe, when his youth is considered." His pen 220 
swept across the governor's note a few times, he smiled 
grimly, a path opened up through the throng, and Sun- 
shine, Moonbeam, and Starlight fading from the scene, 
left Justice at work in the chill and gloom. The State 
lost its case when the counsel for the defense resumed 225 
with the words: "Children like those, my friends, await 
their father's home-coming this Christmas eve." 

But they knew nothing of this. Thirty minutes after 
leaving the governor's room they entered stormily, glee- 
fully, and planted their victorious colors over the citadel 230 
and its vanquished custodian. He learned their story 



j82 Southern Literary Readings 

in amazement, and looked with comic gravity on their 
flushed faces. 

"The republican form of government is a failure," he 
235 said at length. ''The infantry has usurped the executive 
and suspended the judiciary!'' 

"And may we tell Shadow he is free?" asked Sunshine. 
"Yes; let freedom be his Christmas present." The 
child's eyes swam in softer light. 
240 ' * Write it down for me, please ! ' ' Again she handed him 
the pen, this time point foremost, the little hS.nd trembling 
with excitement. And taking his pen, the chief executive 
wrote this, the strangest, sweetest, gentlest public docu- 
ment that ever issued from Alabama's Capitol : 

245 "Dear Sunshine: I have looked into the case of your friend, 
vShadow, from Crenshaw County, and am inclined to think that his 
sentence is too severe. His term is twenty years from September 23, 
1893. I have about made up my mind to cut his sentence to less than 
one third. You can let Shadow know this, and save this letter to 
250 show, if needed. He had three mighty nice girls to beg for him, and, 
you see, I am giving him on more than four years for each girl. 

"Your friend, 

"The Governor." 

Late that night Sunshine's father succeeded in getting 
255 connection by telephone with Wetumpka, and Shadow 
was brought into the superintendent's ofhce. 

"Do you know who this is. Shadow?" The child's 
voice annihilated space as it had annihilated opposition. 

"Mis' Sunshine!" 
260 "Well, Shadow, the governor says you will be free in 
the morning, and I am so glad." 

Back over the wires came a great voice shouting. It 
was the wordless expression of a soul whose chains had 
been broken asunder, and to whom the whole beautiful 



The Vulture and His Shadow j8j 

world came back as a Christmas gift ! Was there ever such 265 
a gift! One other sound came to the Hstening child — the 
sound of a falling telephone receiver. Sunshine turned 
away with her eyes full of tears. The city clock rang out 
clearly through the night upon the first stroke of twelve. 
Clapping her hands, she cried aloud: 270 

" It is Christmas ! Shadow is free ! ' ' 



THE VULTURE AND HIS SHADOW 

All the day long we roam, we roam, 

My shadow fleet and I ; 
One searches all the land and sea, 

And one the trackless sky ; 
But when the taint of death ascends 5 

My airy flight to greet, 
As friends around the festal board, 

We meet ! we meet ! we meet ! 

Ah ! none can read the sign we read, 

No eye can fathom the gales, 10 

No tongue can whisper our secret deed. 

For dead men tell no tales. 
The spot on the plains is miles away ; 

But our wings are broad and fleet — 
The wave-tossed mote in the eye of day 15 

Is far — but we meet! we meet! 

The voice of the battle is haste, oh, hast€ ! 

And down the wind we speed; 
The voice of the wreck moans up from the deep, 

And we search the rank sea- weed. 20 



j84 Southern Literary Readings 

The maiden listens the livelong day 
For the fall of her lover's feet; 

She wonders to see us speeding by — 
She would die, if she saw us meet! 

l'envoi 

Sweeping in circles, my shadow and I, 
Leaving no mark in the land or sky, 
When the double circles are all complete, 
At the bedside of death we meet ! we meet ! 



MADISON CAWEIN 

In the many- voiced choir of the younger American poets 
no note has been heard oftener, none has carried farther, 
and none is sweeter than that of "the Keats of Kentucky," 
Madison Cawein. He has pubhshed no less than twenty- 
seven volumes of verse, — a vast amount of poetry when 
we consider his age and his environment, — and his work 
is well known wherever English is read. 

Born in Louisville, Kentucky, on March 23, 1865, he 
lived for a year at a country place in Oldham County, 
Kentucky, and then — the family having moved — for 
nearly three years he attended school and played among 
the hills and meadows and woodlands of the *'Knob" 
coimtry near New Albany, Indiana. It was here the 
embryo poet first learned to know and love nature, and 
it was here he first felt the raptures of poetic inspiration. 
"If ever children were happy," Mr. Cawein says, "they 
were happy there. We walked two and a half miles every 
school day from fall to spring to the New Albany district 
school; but we enjoyed it. I used to walk along by 
myself, making up wonderful stories of pirate treasures 
and adventures, which I could continue, vSerial-wise, from 
day to day in my imagination unendingly — dependent 
upon no publisher." 

In 1 88 1 the family returned to Louisville, and here 
young Cawein attended the city schools. He completed 
the course at the Male High School, and though he did 
not realize his ambition of pursuing a full college course, 
the grade of work which he did at the city high school 
would entitle him to a bachelor's degree at many of our 
better junior colleges. While in school he read widely 
in English literature, both in romantic prose and poetry, 
and was constantly turning his school exercises and his 
experiences, both imaginary and real, into verse. He 
wrote the class poem on his graduation in 1886, and called 
it, with Coleridge in mind. The Manners. Most of the 

2-^' [385] 



jS6 Southern Literary Readings 

verse written by him at this time was in imitation of 
Scott, Keats, Coleridge, Tennyson, and other favorite 
poets of his early reading, but even in these juvenile 
poems there were occasional gleams of originality, poetic 
fancy, and quaint phrasing, which gave promise of the 
growing genius of the young poet. 

Immediately upon graduation he accepted a clerical 
position in a not very poetic business managed by his 
eldest brother, but this did not deter him from further 
study and reading, both in English and in foreign lan- 
guages, nor from composing verse. He snatched odd 
moments from his onerous and confining clerkship to 
mount his Pegasus, sitting up late at night and rising early 
in the morning to write. In 1887 he published the best 
of his productions under the title Blooms of the Berry. 
This book fell under the eye of the eminent critic William 
Dean Howells, who hailed its writer as a most promising 
young poet. Others, particularly in the South, were 
slower to recognize Mr. Cawein's genius, but Mr. Howells 
continued to praise his work as it appeared in succeeding 
volumes; and now editors and lovers of poetry every- 
where recognize in him a poet of notable gifts. 

Mr. Cawein is too ^cosmopolitan and too much of an 
artist to be strictly local in his appeal, and some critics 
have failed to find in his work what they would denomi- 
nate the distinctly Southern spirit. He is a worshiper of 
beauty wherever he finds it, in Greek myth, in Scandinavian 
saga, in medieval lore, in Persian legend, in Arabian tale, 
but especially and above all in the outdoor world of 
nature. 

He has shown a steady and a virile growth in his poetic 
art, gradually lopping off his youthful excesses and crudi- 
ties, and putting more and more of originality, compact- 
ness of structure, and force into his work. He is now in 
the prime of life; and being still devoted heart and soul 
to the muses, doubtless will achieve yet greater triumphs 
in his art. But even if he has already given us the best 
product of his genius, we may be thankful to accept 
his work as it is and recognize in him a new American 
poet of distinct and permanent worth. 



THE OLD WATER-MILL 

Wild ridge on ridge the wooded hills arise, 

Between whose breezy vistas gulfs of skies 

Pilot great clouds like towering argosies, 

And hawk and buzzard breast the azure breeze. 

With many a foaming fall and glimmering reach 

Of placid murmur, under elm and beech, 

The creek goes twinkling through long glows and glooms 

Of woodland quiet, poppied with perfumes: 

The creek, in whose clear shallows minnow-schools 

Glitter or dart ; and by whose deeper pools 

The blue kingfishers and the herons haunt ; 

That, often startled from the freckled flaunt 

Of blackberry-lilies — where they feed and hide — 

Trail a lank flight along the forestside 

With eery clangor. Here a sycamore. 

Smooth, wave-uprooted, builds from shore to shore 

A headlong bridge; and there, a storm-hurled oak 

Lays a long dam, where sand and gravel choke 

The water's lazy way. Here mistflower blurs 

Its bit of heaven ; there the oxeye stirs 

Its gleaming hues of bronze and gold; and here, 

A gray cool stain, like dawn's own atmosphere, 

The dim wild-carrot lifts its crumpled crest : 

And over all, at slender flight or rest, 

The dragon-flies, like coruscating rays 

Of lapis-lazuli and chrysoprase, 

Drowsily sparkle through the summer days ; 

And, dewlap-deep, here from the noontide heat 

The bell-hung cattle find a cool retreat : 

[JS?] 



j88 Southern Literary Readings 

And through the willows girdling the hill, 
Now far, now near, borne as the soft winds will, 
Comes the low rushing of the water-mill. 

Ah, lovely to me from a little child, 
How changed the place! wherein once, undefiled, 
The glad communion of the sky and stream 
Went with me like a presence and a dream. 
Where once the brambled meads and orchardlands 
Poured ripe abundance down with mellow hands 
Of summer ; and the birds of field and wood 

I Called to me in a tongue I understood ; 
And in the tangles of the old rail-fence 
Even the insect tumult had some sense. 
And every sound a happy eloquence ; . 
And more to me than wisest books can teach, 

i The wind and water said ; whose words did reach 
My soul, addressing their magnificent speech. 
Raucous and rushing, from the old mill-wheel. 
That made the rolling mill-cogs snore and reel. 
Like some old ogre in a fairy-tale 

» Nodding above his meat and mug of ale. 

How memory takes me back the ways that lead — 
As when a boy — through woodland and through mead! 
To orchards fruited ; or to fields in bloom ; 
Or briary fallows, like a mighty room, 

5 Through which the winds swing censers of perfume. 
And where deep blackberries spread miles of fruit; — 
A splendid feast, that stayed the ploughboy's foot 
When to the tasseling acres of the corn 
He drove his team, fresh in the primrose morn; 

» And from the liberal banquet, nature lent, 
Took dewy handfuls as he whistling went. — 



The Old Water-mill jSq 

A boy once more I stand with sunburnt feet 

And watch the harvester sweep down the wheat ; 

Or laze with warm Hmbs in the unstacked straw 

Near by the thresher, whose insatiate maw es 

Devours the sheaves, hot drawhng out its hum — 

Like some great sleepy bee, above a bloom, 

Made drunk with honey — while, grown big with grain, 

The bulging sacks receive the golden rain. 

Again I tread the valley, sweet with hay, 70 

And hear the bob-white calling far away, 

Or wood-dove cooing in the elder-brake ; 

Or see the sassafras bushes madly shake 

As swift, a rufous instant, in the glen 

The red-fox leaps and gallops to his den ; 75 

Or, standing in the violet-colored gloam. 

Hear roadways sound with holiday riding home 

From church, or fair, or bounteous barbecue. 

Which the whole country to some village drew. 

How spilled with berries were its summer hills, so 

And strewn with walnuts were its autumn rills — 

And chestnut burs ! fruit of the spring's long flowers, 

When from their tops the trees seemed streaming showers 

Of slender silver, cool, crepuscular. 

And like a nebulous radiance shone afar. as 

And maples ! how their sappy hearts would gush 

Broad troughs of syrup, when the winter bush 

Steamed with the sugar-kettle, day and night, 

And all the snow was streaked with firelight. 

Then it was glorious ! the mill-dam's edge 90 

One slant of frosty crystal, laid a ledge 

Of pearl across; above which, sleeted trees 

Tossed arms of ice, that, clashing in the breeze, 

Tinkled the ringing creek with icicles, 



jQO Southern Literary Readings 

95 Thin as the peal of Elfland's Sabbath bells : 
A sound that in my city dreams I hear, 
That brings before me, under skies that clear, 
The old mill in its winter garb of snow, 
Its frozen wheel, a great hoar beard below, 

100 And its west windows, two deep eyes aglow. 

Ah, ancient mill, still do I picture o'er 
Thy cob webbed stairs and loft and grain-strewn floor ; 
Thy door, — like some brown, honest hand of toil. 
And honorable with labor of the soil, — 

105 Forever open; through which, on his back 

The prosperous farmer bears his bursting sack. 

And while the miller measures out his toll. 

Again I hear, above the cogs' loud roll, — 

That makes stout joist and rafter groan and sway, — 

110 The harmless gossip of the passing day : 
Good country talk, that tells how so-and-so 
Has died or married ; how curculio 
And codling-moth have ruined half the fruit, 
And blight plays mischief with the grapes to boot ; 

115 Or what the news from town; next county fair; 
How well the crops are looking everywhere : 
Now this, now that, on which their interests fix. 
Prospects for rain or frost, and politics. 
While, all around, the sweet smell of the meal 

120 Filters, warm-pouring from the grinding wheel 
Into the bin; beside which, mealy white. 
The miller looms, dim in the dusty light. 

Again I see the miller's home, between 
The crinkling creek and hills of beechen green : 
125 Again the miller greets me, gaunt and brown, 

Who oft o'erawed me with his gray-browed frown 



Seasons jgi 

And rugged mien : again he tries to reach 

My youthful mind with fervid scriptural speech. — 

For he, of all the country-side confessed, 

The most religious was and happiest ; 130 

A Methodist, and one whom faith still led, 

No books except the Bible had he read — 

At least so seemed it to my younger head. — 

All things in earth and heav'n he'd prove by this, 

Be it a fact or mere hypothesis; m 

For to his simple wisdom, reverent, 

"The Bible says" was all of argument. — 

God keep his soul ! his bones were long since laid 

Among the svinken gravestones in the shade 

Of those black-lichened rocks, that wall around uo 

The family burying-ground with cedars crowned ; 

Where bristling teasel and the briar combine 

With clambering wood-rose and the wild-grape 

vine 
To hide the stone whereon his name and dates 
Neglect, with mossy hand, obliterates. uo 



SEASONS 

I 
I heard the forest's green heart beat 
As if it heard the happy feet 
Of one who came, like young Desire: 
At whose fair coming birds and flowers 
Sprang up, and Beauty, filled with fire, 
Touched lips with Song amid the bowers, 
And Love led on the dancing Hours. 



jp2 Southern Literary Readings 

II 
And then I heard a voice that rang, 
And to the leaves and blossoms sang : — 
"My child is Life: I dwell with Truth: 
I am the spirit glad of Birth : 
I bring to all things joy and youth: 
I am the rapture of the Earth. 
Come look on me and know my worth." 

Ill 
And then the woodland heaved a sigh, 
As if it saw a shape go by — 
A shape of sorrow or of dread, 
That seemed to move as moves a mist, 
And left the leaves and flowers dead, 
And with cold lips my forehead kissed, 
While phantoms all around held tryst. 

IV 

And then I heard a voice that spoke 
Unto the fading beech and oak : — 
**I am the spirit of Decay, 
Whose child is Death, that means relief: 
I breathe — and all things pass away: 
I am Earth's glory and its grief. 
Come look on me: thy time is brief." 



SOUNDS AND SIGHTS 

Little leaves, that lean your ears 
From each branch and bough of spring, 
What is that your rapture hears ? 



Zyps oj Zirl jpj 

Song of bird or flight of wing, 
All so eager, little ears ? 

"Hush, oh, hush! Oh, don't you hear 
Steps of beauty drawing near ? 
Neither flight of bee nor bird — 
Hark! the steps of Love are heard!'* 

Little buds that crowd with eyes 
Every bush and every tree, 
What is this that you surmise? 
What is that which you would see, 
So attentive, little eyes ? 

"Look, oh, look! Oh, can't you see 
Loveliness camps 'neath each tree ? 
See her hosts and hear them sing, 
Marching with the maiden Spring!" 



ZYPS OF ZIRL 

The Alps of the Tyrol are dark with pines, 
Where, foaming under the mountain spines. 
The Inn's long water sounds and shines. 

Beyond, are peaks where the morning weaves 
An icy rose ; and the evening leaves 
The glittering gold of a thousand sheaves. 

Deep vines and torrents and glimmering haze, 
And sheep-bells tinkling on mountain ways. 
And fluting shepherds make sweet the days. 



jg4 Southern Literary Readings 

The rolling mist, like a wandering fleece, 
. The great round moon in a mountain crease, 
And a song of love make the nights all peace. 

Beneath the blue Tyrolean skies 

On the banks of the Inn, that foams and flies, 

The storied city of -Innsbruck lies. 

With its medieval streets, that crook, 
And its gabled houses, it has the look 
Of a belfried town in a fairy-book. 

So wild the Tyrol that oft, 'tis said, 

When the storm is out and the town in bed, 

The howling of wolves sweeps overhead. 

And oft the burgher, sitting here 

In his walled rose-garden, hears the clear 

Shrill scream of the eagle circling near. 

i And this is the tale that the burghers tell: — 

The Abbot of Wiltau stood at his cell 
Where the Solstein lifts its pinnacle, 

A mighty summit of bluffs and crags 
That frowns on the Inn ; where the forest stags 
I Have worn a path to the water-flags. 

The Abbot of Wiltau stood below ; 

And he was aware of a plume and bow 

On the precipice there in the morning's glow. 

A chamois, he saw, from span to span 
5 Had leapt ; and after it leapt a man ; 

And he knew 'twas the Kaiser Maxmilian. 



Zyps of Zirl 395 

But, see ! though rash as the chamois he, 

His foot less sure. And verily 

If the King should miss . . . " Jesu, Marie! 

"The King hath missed!" — And, look, he falls! 
Rolls headlong out to the headlong walls. 
What saint shall save him on whom he calls? 

What saint shall save him, who struggles there 

On the narrow ledge by the eagle's lair. 

With hooked hands clinging 'twixt earth and air ? 

The Abbot, he crosses himself in dread — 
" Let prayers go up for the nearly dead. 
And the passing-bell be tolled," he said. 

"For the House of Hapsburg totters; see. 

How raveled the thread of its destiny, 

Sheer hung between cloud and rock!" quoth he. 

But hark ! where the steeps of the peak reply, 

Is it an eagle's echoing cry? 

And the flitting shadow, its plumes on high? 

No voice of the eagle is that which rings! 
And the shadow, a wiry man who swings 
Down, down where the desperate Kaiser clings. 

The crampons bound to his feet, he leaps 
Like a chamois now ; and again he creeps 
Or twists, like a snake, o'er the fearful deeps. 

"By his cross-bow, baldrick, and cap's black curl," 
Quoth the Abbot below, " I know the churl! 
" 'Tis the hunted outlaw Zyps of Zirl, 



jg6 Southern Literary Readings 

"Upon whose head, or dead or ahve, 
i The Kaiser hath posted a price. — Saints shrive 

The King!" quoth Wiltau. "Who may contrive 

"To save him now that his foe is there? " — 
But, Hsten! again through the breathless air 
What words are those that the echoes bear? 

"Courage, my King! — To the rescue, ho!" 
The wild voice rings like a twanging bow. 
And the staring Abbot stands mute below. 

And, lo! the hand of the outlaw grasps 
The arm of the King — and death unclasps 
Its fleshless fingers from him who gasps. 

And how he guides ! where the clean cliffs wedge 
Them fiat to their faces ; by chasm and ledge 
He helps the King from the merciless edge. 

Then up and up, past bluffs that shun 
The rashest chamois ; where eagles sun 
Fierce wings and brood ; where the mists are spun. 

And safe at last stand Kaiser and churl 

On the mountain path where the mosses curl — 

And this the revenge of Zyps of Zirl. 



SAMUEL MINTURN PECK 

Though Samuel Minturn Peck's parents came from 
Northern states, he was himself born and for the most 
part reared and educated in the South, and his temper- 
ament and his emotional nature have been so largely 
influenced by his environment that he is recognized as 
thoroughly Southern. He was born near Tuscaloosa, 
Alabama, November 4, 1854, and spent all but a few 
years of his childhood in and around that picturesque 
little city. He attended the University of Alabama, took 
his master's degree in 1876, and afterward, in deference to 
parental advice, studied medicine. But he never practiced 
the profession that was imposed upon him by his parents. 
His inclinations were toward the sister arts of music and 
poetry, and to these he devoted his leisure. He became an 
excellent amateur performer on the piano and, like Sidney 
Lanier, wished to become a professional musician. To 
this his parents would not consent, so he turned to the 
other art, poetry. 

He had written verses while in college, and received 
encouragement from several of his teachers, notably 
Professor W. C. Richardson. His first work appeared in 
local newspapers and the larger Southern dailies. He 
was finally induced by Professor Richardson to submit 
some of his poems to Northern journals. They were 
promptly accepted, and Mr. Peck thus began his career 
as a professional literary man. His first volume. Cap 
and Bells, published in 1886, was remarkably successful, 
running through five or six editions. His other volumes 
of verse are Rings and Love-knots (1892) and Rhymes 
and Roses (1895). In recent years Mr. Peck has pub- 
Hshed numerous poems in the leading magazines, and it 
is his intention to gather these into another volume some- 
time soon. One other volume, Alabama Sketches, com- 
posed of light love stories, is also to be put down to 
Mr. Peck's credit, but the public is not nearly so much in- 
terested in his prose as in his delicate and quaint lyrics. 

[397] 



AN ALABAMA GARDEN 

Along a pine-clad hill it lies, 
O'erlooked by limpid Southern skies, 
A spot to feast a fairy's eyes, 

A nook for happy fancies. 
The wild bee's mellow monotone 
Here blends with bird-notes zephyr-blown, 
And many an insect voice unknown 

The harmony enhances. 

The rose's shattered splendor flees 
With lavish grace on every breeze, 
And lilies sway with flexile ease 

Like dryads snowy-breasted; 
And where gardenias drowse between 
Rich curving, leaves of glossy green, 
The cricket strikes his tambourine. 

Amid the mosses nested. 

Here dawn-flushed myrtles interlace, 
And sifted sunbeams shyly trace 
Frail arabesques whose shifting grace 

Is wrought of shade and shimmer; 
At eventide scents quaint and rare 
Go straying through my garden fair, 
As if they sought with wildered air 

The fireflies' fitful glimmer. 

Oh, could some painter's facile brush, 
On canvas limn my garden's blush, 

[398] 



The Grapevine Swing jgg 

The fevered world its din would hush 

To crown the high endeavor; 
Or eould a poet snare in rhyme 
The breathings of his balmy clime, 
His fame might dare the dart of time 

And soar undimmed forever! 



THE GRAPEVINE SWING 

When I was a boy on the old plantation, 

Down by the deep bayou, 
The fairest spot of all creation, 

Under the arching blue; 
When the wind came over the cotton and corn. 

To the long slim loop I 'd spring 
With brown feet bare, and a hat-brim torn, 

And swing in the grapevine swing. 

Swinging in the grapevine swing, 
Laughing where the wild birds sing, 

I dream and sigh 

For the days gone by. 
Swinging in the grapevine swing. 

Out — o'er the water-lilies bonnie and bright. 

Back — to the moss-grown tree; 
I shouted and laughed with a heart as light 

As a wild-rose tossed by the breeze. 
The mocking-bird joined in my reckless glee, 

I longed for no angel's wing, 
I was just as near heaven as I wanted to be. 

Swinging in the grapevine swing. 



400 Southern Literary Readings 

Swinging in the grapevine swing, 
Laughing where the wild birds sing, — 

Oh, to be a boy 

With a heart full of joy, 
Swinging in the grapevine swing! 

I 'm weary at noon, I 'm weary at night, 

I 'm fretted and sore of heart, 
And care is sowing my locks with white 

As I wend through the fevered mart. 
I 'm tired of the world with its pride and pomp, 

And fame seems a worthless thing. 
I 'd barter it all for one day's romp. 

And a swing in the grapevine swing. 

Swinging in the grapevine swing. 
Laughing where the wild birds sing, 

I would I were away 

From the world to-day, 
Swinging in the grapevine swing. 



The Notes 

The Star-spangled Banner 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The history of the composition of this famous patriotic song is 
given in full in the sketch of Francis Scott Key. 

EXPLANATORY: 

4. Ramparts. Here, the embankments before Fort McHenry on 
Whetstone Point, just below the city of Baltimore. 

5. Rocket's red glare. The British ships attempted to pass by the 
fort after midnight, and the brilliant discharge of signal rockets and 
bursting bombs from the fort and from the vessels made a beauti- 
ful but awful display in the blackness of the night. 

7. Star-spangled Banner. This beautiful descriptive phrase has 
become the common designation of our flag, but we must not 
forget to give Francis Scott Key the credit of coining it, or at least 
giving it popularity and currency. 

9. Mists of the deep. See the sketch for an explanation, 

II. Towering steep. Fort McHenry is on the promontory of 
Whetstone Point, and is built up so as to look like a steep mound. 

17. So vauntingly swore. Just after the conclusion of the inci- 
dent Key wrote to his friend John Randolph of Virginia: "To 
make my feelings still more acute, the admiral had intimated his 
fears that the town must be burned, and I was sure that if taken it 
would have been given up to plunder. I have reason to believe 
that such a promise was given to their soldiers. It was filled with 
women and children. I hope I shall never cease to feel the warmest 
gratitude when I think of this most merciful deliverance. It seems 
to have given me a higher idea of the 'forbearance, long-suffering, 
and tender mercy' of God, than I had ever conceived before." 

30. In God is our trust. The motto, "In God we trust," is 
stamped on practically all of our larger American coins. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Read the history of the composition of the song (pp. 1-3) 
and comment on the realism and the historic fact incorporated in 
the stanzas. (2) The first stanza gives the anxious anticipation 
of the watcher as at dawn he scans the shore in search of the flag 
after the terrific battle of the day and night preceding; the second 
stanza brings the flag to sight in the first gleam of the morning sun- 
light, and shows the enemy's vessels lying off the harbor in the 
"dread silence" of defeat; the third describes the carnage visited 

26 I401] 



402 Southern Literary Readings 

upon the vaunting foe; the cHmax or concluding stanza is an out- 
burst of rehgious fervor and thanksgiving to the Power which had 
saved our nation. Study out these points closely and condense them 
into an outline. (3) By what rhetorical means is the anxiety 
of the watcher expressed? (4) Note how the poet gradually leads 
up to the disclosure of the flag, and how lovingly and beautifully 
he pictures it in the sun's first beams. (5) To what does Key 
attribute the American victory? (6) In studying the form of the 
poem note the anapaestic rhythm of the four-stress lines. Some 
of the feet are rather heavy and cumbrous, and are not easily 
uttered or sung rhythmically; as, "whose broad stripes." Here 
we have three full, heavy syllables, and it is difficult to utter the 
first two words in the short, quick time which the rhythm demands. 
But the awkwardness of the movement is atoned for by the fervor 
and sincerity of the lines. (7) Work out the rime scheme of stanza i . 
You will notice the first quatrain (or four lines) is composed of 
alternately riming lines, the first and third being masculine, and 
the second and fourth feminine. See if this scheme is followed 
throughout. Now note the duplication of the rimes in the second 
quatrain. The fifth line has an internal rime, glare, air; and the 
sixth line rimes with it, — there. See if this scheme is carried out 
in the other stanzas. The last couplet is the refrain, and is repeated 
with but slight variation throughout. 

The Mocking-bird 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This and the following selection are taken from Audubon's 
American Ornithological Biography, the text made to accompany 
The Birds of America (1827-1838). 

EXPLANATORY: 

6. Bignonias. The bignonia is a genus of woody-fibered 
climbing plants, commonly known in the South as cross- vine. Its 
stem is porous and splits in sections, and when dry is often used 
by small boys as a harmless substitute for cigarettes. 

8. Stuartia: A plant of the genus camellia, the Southern 
tea tree. 

39. Hautboy. An oboe, or wooden wind instrument of the reed 
type, having a keen, high-toned register. The word is from the 
French, haul, high, and hois, wood. Pronounced ho'boi. 

141. Philomel. A poetic name for the nightingale, from the 
Greek phileo, love, and melos, song. Compare the beautiful pas- 
sage on the nightingale in Milton's // Penseroso, beginning, 

"And the mute Silence hist along 
'Less Philomel will deign a song." 

A soubrette is an actress who sings a light or lively part in an opera. 

142. Mozart. A German musician (i 756-1 791), noted for the 
rich melody and intricate elaboration of his compositions. Pro- 
nounced mo'tsart. 

744. Essays. Attempts, efforts. 



The Notes ■ 40 j 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Outline the topics discussed in each paragraph. (2) Name 
over the plants mentioned b}'' Audubon as characteristic of the nat- 
ural habitat of the mocking bird. (3) What are the chief features 
of the setting in which he would place the bird? Thus he implies 
that the rich, exuberant, varied, tropical plant life is reproduced 
in the bird's song. (4) How is the general description of the place 
in the first paragraph answered concretely in the second? (5) 
What is meant by Europe's "adventurous sons"? (6) How does 
the bird mimic nature? (7) What sounds have you heard the 
mocking bird imitate? (8) According to your observation, is 
Audubon accurate in his description of the nesting habits of the 
mocking bird? (9) Have you ever noticed mocking birds opening 
and shutting their wings while hopping along the ground? Is 
this a winter or a summer habit? (10) Have you ever noticed that 
mocking birds migrate ? Do they go in flocks ? ( 1 1 ) Is there any bird 
which can get the better of the mocking bird in a fight? (12) 
What is Audubon's opinion of the mocking bird's musical powers 
as compared with those of the nightingale? (13) What is the ante- 
cedent of which in line 142? If the relative pronoun were intended 
to refer to souhrette, what would be a better form?-. Audubon 
may after all mean that if the soubrette could study under Mozart 
she might in time become very interesting. The sentence is not 
clear and should be reconstructed. 

(Note. A few liberties have been taken with the text in this and the follow- 
ing selection to straighten out entangled pronouns, secure concord, and the like, 
but the quality of Audubon's style has been preserved in every case.) 

The Ruby-throated Humming-bird 

EXPLANATORY: 

20. Curious. Careful. From the Latin ciira, care. 

70. Tyrant fly-catcher. The kingbird, commonly called bee 
martin in the South. 

So. Humble-bees. We usually say bumblebees. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 
(i) What topics does the author discuss in the various paragraphs? 

(2) What double purpose does the author seem to have in view 
in this essay? Is there emotional appeal as well as information? 

(3) Point out passages in this selection to prove that Audubon 
was an enthusiastic lover of birds. (4) If you have ever seen a 
humming bird feeding from flowers, describe the appearance and 
movements of the bird as it darts from flower to flower. In what 
words does the author describe all this? ■ (5) What is meant by the 

returning sun " ? (6) To what is the bird compared in lines 20-2 1 ? 
What is the force of curious here? (7) Why does the author speak 
of fanning the flowers, cooling them, lulling the insects to repose, etc.? 
(8) Does the bird go far north in the summer? When does it return 
southward, and where does it winter? (9) What qualities does 
the observer note in the bird during the mating season? (10) De- 
scribe the young birds. 



404 Southern Literary Readings 

Lament of the Captive 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This lyric is taken from an unfinished epic based on the experiences 
of the poet's brother in the Seminole War in Florida. From its 
first line, which is usually given as the title of the poem, many have 
been led to interpret the stanzas as expressive of Wilde's despond- 
ent and sentimental view of life. To understand a lyric of this 
kind, we must read it not as an expression of the author's own 
emotion, but as his conception of the emotions of another — in this 
instance of a captive who dies away from his people, many — per- 
haps all — of whom, as he believes, have fallen before the conquering 
enemy. 

EXPLANATORY: 

18. Tampa's desert strand. Locate Tampa Bay. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What three comparisons are presented in the three stanzas? 
(2) Is each stanza devoted exclusively to its topic? (3) What is 
the unifying thought in all three stanzas? State the theme of the 
poem in a single sentence. (4) In what mood does the author 
imagine the captive to be? (5) Study the parallelism of structure 
in the three stanzas. (6) What line becomes a sort of refrain? 
(7) What image in the first stanza suggests the use of weep in the 
last line? (8) What image in the second stanza suggests sigh? 
(9) What image in the third stanza suggests mourn? (10) The 
meter is four-stress iambic. Scan the first stanza. (11) Analyze 
the rime scheme, and note the rime that is repeated in all three 
stanzas. g 

The Partisans 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This passage is taken from the twenty-first chapter of The Partisan: 
A Romance of the Revolution, first published in 1835. Simms tells 
us that he spent part of a summer with a friend in the vicinity of 
"the once beautiful but now utterly decayed town of Dorchester," 
studying the scenery, talking with the old settlers, and gathering 
material for the historical and traditional background of his romance. 
He also says in the preface of the revised edition (1853): "This 
story will be found to comprise the leading events of the war of the 
Revolution in South Carolina, dating from the fall of Charleston 
in 1780. It is proposed as a fair picture of the province — its con- 
dition, prospects, resources — pending the brief struggle of Gates 
with Cornwallis and immediately after the disastrous campaign of 
1780." Strictly speaking, Major Robert Singleton, the hero of 
the romance, is "the partisan"; but in the title to the selection 
given here the term is applied to those famous leaders, Marion and 
Sumter, the "Swamp Fox" and the "Game Cock." 

It will be better for the pupil to consider the prose selection and 
The Swamp Fox separately. 



The Notes 40 j 

EXPLANATORY: 

1. Ashley. The small river which takes its rise iti Berkeley- 
County and flows in a southeasterly direction, emptying into the 
Atlantic at Charleston. Locate it on your map of South Carolina. 

2. Dorchester. Formerly a thriving village some twenty-five 
miles northwest of Charleston, in what is now Dorchester county. 

45. Their chief city was besieged and taken. Charleston sur- 
rendered to the British under Sir Henry Clinton in 1780. 

80. Sumter. General Thomas Sumter was born in Virginia, 
but moved to South Carolina at an early age. He became a partisan 
leader in 1780, defeated the Tories at Hanging Rock, but was driven 
back by Tarleton's British regulars. He was also severely defeated 
by Tarleton at Fishing Creek; however, he turned the tables on 
his able British opponent by overwhelmingly repulsing him at 
Blackstock Hill in the same year. Read up further on Sumter, 
and his career in war and in peace, in any good encyclopedia or 
biographical dictionary. 

85. Marion. General Francis Marion of South Carolina was 
born in 1732. He took an active part in the military operations 
in his native state during the Revolution, rising from the rank of 
captain to that of brigadier-general. He was a fine strategist, and 
early in his career earned from his British opponents the title 
"Swamp Fox." Marion, Sumter, Pickens, Lee, and others were 
called partisan leaders. 

102. George Dennison. Probably a character invented b}'- Simms 
as a means of introducing some of his own poems into the narrative. 
104. Troubadours. These were French lyrical poets of the 
twelfth and thirteenth centuries who wandered about over the coun- 
try singing of love and war: here applied to local poets or singers. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Give a topic for each of the paragraphs in the prose selection. 
Note how the author progresses from the description of the scene 
around Dorchester to the historic and traditional events associated 
with the place, leading up gradually to the scene of the battle between 
the patriots and the British invaders, and then turning to the partisan 
leaders, Sumter and Marion. The last paragraph on George Denni- 
son, the partisan poet, is introduced as a device for inserting the poem 
on Marion. (2) Determine as nearly as you can the exact spot 
where the old village of Dorchester was situated on the Ashley 
River. (3) Give a sketch of the partisan warfare carried on by 
Marion, Sumter, and others. (4) Why is Washington spoken of as 
colonel in the second paragraph? (5) Notice that the description 
of the activities of the partisan bands is given in the present tense 
in the latter part of paragraph two and in paragraph three. Why 
is this done? (6) How is contrast employed in the portraiture of 
Sumter and Marion? (7) Explain the thought in the third sen- 
tence of the paragraph on George Dennison. (8) The latter half 
of this paragraph is an apostrophe to the supposed poet. What 
is the effect of this device, and in what respects does the style 
of this section differ from the rest of the selection? 



4o6 Southern Literary Readings 

The Swamp Fox 

EXPLANATORY: 

3. Tarleton. Colonel Baiinastre Tarletoii was a distinguished 
British officer serving under Cornwallis. 

8. Wild and hunted men. The British authorities had given 
Colonel Tarleton orders to destroy Marion and his followers. 

19. Santee. Locate this river on the map of South Carolina. 
Marion's chief activities were between the Santee and Pedee rivers. 

38. To shy. To turn quickly and retire; an uncommon use of 
the word. 

43. Colonel. Marion was at this time a colonel, though later he 
became a general. 

55. Dry potatoes. An interesting story is told of an English 
officer who visited Marion's camp under a flag of truce on business 
connected with the exchange of prisoners. He came just as the men 
were preparing dinner. Marion courteously invited the officer to 
remain and take dinner with him. That officer was greatly sur- 
prised when the servant Tom brought them some roasted sweet 
potatoes on a piece of bark and served the dinner on a log. It is 
said that he reported the incident to his friends and remarked that 
the British could never conquer a country defended by men so self- 
sacrificing as Marion and his soldiers. 

62. Cooter. A kind of water turtle. 

63. Plashing light. The light reflected by plashing or gently 
undulating water. Compare splash, which is a more violent move- 
ment of water with accompanying spray. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem consists^ of a series of pictures descriptive of the 
daily life, the tactics, the habits, and the ideals of Marion's men. 
Try to find a good topic for each of the stanzas. (2) Why was 
Marion called the "Swamp Fox"? (3) Describe the camps and hid- 
ing places of the partisans. (4) Describe the time and methods of 
their attacks. (5) Explain the meaning of the line, "The twisted 
bore, the smiting brand." (6) What characteristics of the men are 
developed in stanza 5? (7) Read William Cullen Bryant's Song 
of Marion's Men and compare it closely with Simms's poem. 
(8) Determine the meter and rime scheme of this simple poem, and 
scan a typical stanza. 

The Grape-vine Swing 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The swing celebrated in this poem was. Professor Trent tells 
us in his Life of Simms, to be found near "Woodlands," the author's 
beautiful plantation home about halfway between Charleston, South 
Carolina, and Augusta, Georgia. It is described as "a wonderful 
swing ... for the vine had drooped its festoons, one below 
another, in such a way that half a dozen persons (so says an appar- 
ently veracious traveler) could find comfortable seats; and yet 
not one of them be sitting on a level with his neighbor, nay, could 



The Notes 40'/ 

not only sit, but could hold a book in one hand and reach ripe 
grapes with the other. " 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The first stanza is descriptive; the second suggests personal 
associations; the third is reminiscent. Read the poem with this 
analysis in mind, and outline for yourself the topics. (2) Study 
the imaginative touches in stanza i . In the last four lines work out 
the apt comparisons to various wild things. (3) Note the romantic 
associations of the lovers in stanza 2 and point out expressions that 
suggest tender sentiments. Why are the lovers pictured as boy and 
girl rather than as man and woman? (4) Why does the poet call 
the swing "giant strange"? (See the introductory note above.) 
(5) Where is the poet as he now thinks of the swing? What cordage 
does he playfully grasp? (6) Study the verse structure. The rime 
is alternate, and the rhythm is a combination of anapaestic 
and iambic feet, with some irregularities, as the omission of the 
introductory light stresses in lines 1,2, and others. Do you think 
the rhythm is suggestive of the movement of the swing? (7) There 
is a good deal of tone-color obtained by alliterative and riming 
pairs, as "lithe and long," "springing and clinging." Point out 
others, and study the musical effects thus brought out. 

The Gold Bug 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The Gold Bug was a prize story first published in the Philadelphia 
Dollar Newspaper, June 21 and 28, 1843. Poe wrote it for Graham's 
Magazine while he was editor of that periodical; but when the new 
publication, the Dollar Newspaper, advertised a prize contest, 
he went to Mr. Graham and offered to substitute another manu- 
script for the one already handed in, explaining frankly that he felt 
confident he could earn considerably more money by entering his 
story in the contest. Mr. Graham generously consented that Poe 
withdraw the manuscript, and it easily^ won the first prize. The 
Gold Bug belongs to the group of Poe's analytical ratiocinative sto- 
ries having an element of mystery. Since its first appearance it has 
been a favorite among Poe's readers, particularly young people. Poe 
was for some years just prior to the writing of this story greatly 
interested in secret writing of all kinds. In Graham 's Magazine for 
July, 1 841, he published an essay, A Feiv Words on Secret Writing, 
explaining the antiquity of cryptography and discussing the various 
types of cipher writing. He pronounced the dictum: " Human in- 
genuity cannot concoct a cipher which human ingenuity cannot 
resolve"; and in order to prove his assertion, he agreed to solve 
any and all examples of secret writing sent him. He is said to have 
received about one hundred puzzling cryptograms, all of which, 
with one single exception, he immediately solved, and the exception 
he proved to have no meaning whatever, being a mere jargon made 
up at random. For a full account of this wonderful exploit read, 
in Vol. XIV of Professor James A. Harrison's edition of Poe's Works, 
the article above referred to and the correspondence it provoked. 



4o8 Southern Literary Readings 

EXPLANATORY: 

What ho! Note how this quotation suggests the action of Legrand 
after he had, according to Jupiter, "bin bit somewhere bout de head 
by dat goole-bug," p. 40. The passage is presumably quoted from 
a comedy, All in the Wrong, adapted from the French of Des- 
louche by the British playwright, Arthur Murphy (i 727-1 805); but 
Professor W. P. Trent examined All in the Wrong and failed to 
find the quotation. Poe may have been quoting from memory; 
or he may have made up a passage to suit the occasion, as he 
frequently did, 

2. Huguenot. The Huguenots, or French Protestants, were 
granted civil and religious liberty by the Edict of Nantes (1598), 
but by the revocation of that edict in 1685 thousands of them were 
driven into exile, many coming to America. Why did Poe select 
the name Legrand? Does the date of the exile of the Huguenots 
coincide with the date of Captain Kidd's activity? Compare note 
1042 below. 

16. Fort Moultrie. Situated on an island in Charleston Harbor. 
What historical events are associated with this fort? 

39. Swammerdamm. A Dutch physician and naturalist of the 
seventeenth century, noted for his study of anatomy and entomology 
and for his large collection of insects. 

140. ScarabcEus caput hominis. Man's head or skull beetle. 

166. Exacerbate. Aggravate. Look up the etymology of this 
learned word. Look up also the following words of Latin or French 
origin, and make notes on their formation and history: coppice, 
entomologist, grandiloquent, obstreperous, pertinacity, prevarica- 
tion, vociferate, curvet, caracole, extravagant, vagary, aversion, 
demented, caprice, caloric, scrutiny, corrosion, relevancy, collation, 
collocation, cognizance, coadjutor. Add others to the list as you 
find them in your study. 

205. Syphon. What is Jupiter trying to say? Spell it cor- 
rectly. 

257. Brusquerie. A French word meaning bluntness or rudeness 
of manner or speech. 

266. Solus. A Latin word meaning alone. 

305. Empressement. A French word meaning eagerness, earnest- 
ness. 

430. Tulip-tree. The poplar, so called because of its tulip-shaped 
blossoms. Notice how fully and accurately the tree is described 
in lines 463-468. 

694. Madness . . . 7nethod. Compare Hamlet, Act II, Sc. ii: 
"Though this be madness, yet there 's method in 't." 

716. Vagaries. The accent is on the second syllable. 

814. Guineas. English coins worth a little more than five 
dollars each; so called because first coined (about 1663) from gold 
brought from Guinea. 

834. Bacchanalian. Pertaining to the bacchanalia, or festivals 
of Bacchus, the Roman god of wine; hence, reveling. 

837. Avoirdupois. Why does the author use avoirdupois 
instead of troy weight in measuring jewels and gold? 



The Notes 40Q 

loii. Zaffre (or zaffer). Blue coloring matter. 

1 01 2. Aqua regia. Nitro-hydrochloric acid. Literally, "royal 
water. ' ' 

1014. Reguliis. A Latin alchemical term, meaning "little 
king," applied first to antimony and later to any intermediary 
metallic sulphide. Nitre, or niter, is commonly known as saltpeter. 
Notice how Poe parades his learning here. 

1042. Captain Kidd. A noted English pirate who lived in the 
latter half of the seventeenth century (1650-1701). For many 
years it was supposed that he had buried immense treasures some- 
where on the coast of the Southern Colonies, and various attempts 
were made to discover the exact spot. 

1044. Hieroglyphical. Pertaining to signs or pictures as used 
in early systems of writing. 

1 121. Golconda. A city in India, formerly famous as a center 
of diamond industries. 

1 130. Cryptographs. Cryptograph, meaning a cipher or secret 
writing, is from the Greek kryptos, hidden, and graphe, writing. 

1290. Rationale. A logical system of reasoning. Pronounced 
rS,sh-wn-a'lg. 

1 37 1. Twenty-one. First printed forty-one, but later changed 
to twenty-one. What other changes would be necessitated in 
other parts of the story? 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

I. ^ General, (i) Into what two large divisions may the story 
be divided? Indicate the exact point of division. (2) In which 
is Poe's main interest, the discovery of the treasure or the solution 
of the cryptogram? (3) What is the scene of the story? Locate it 
on a map and tell how Poe became familiar with this locality. (4) 
What is the time of the event related? Why does Poe use a blank 
in line 52 for the exact date? Look up other places where he uses 

blanks, as "Lieutenant G " (line 80) and "My Dear ," 

(line 255), and try to explain each case. (5) Does the information 
that Jupiter has been manumitted (line 41) help to fix the time 
any more definitely? Does the fact that Jupiter calls Legrand 
"Massa Will" help? Remember that the story was published in 
June, 1843. (6) What was the time of the burying of the treasure? 
(7) How much time, then, has elapsed since it was buried? What 
is the age of the tulip tree? (8) Who are the principal characters 
in the story? (9) Is Jupiter's way of speaking like that of negroes 
whom you have heard talk? How do you account for the differ- 
ences? (10) Make a list of the characteristics of Legrand as indi- 
cated by his actions, and from these write a character sketch of 
the hero. (11) Do you think the story teaches any lesson? What 
is its purpose, then? Compare it with The Masque of the Red Death 
in this respect. (12) Does it appeal primarily to the heart or to 
the intellect? 

II. Specific, (i) How many paragraphs are given to the 
description of the setting of the story? (2) Why are we told that 
the vegetation of the island is scant or dwarfish? (3) What are 



410 Southern Literary Readings 

Legrand's chief occupations? Why was it necessary to make him a 
collector of shells and entomological specimens? (4) Why was it 
necessary to elaborate the idea of chilliness (line 62)? Notice the 
details of the "overcoat," the "fine fire," etc. (5) Why are scara- 
bcEUs, antenncB, etc., printed in italics? Does Poe often use italics for 
other purposes? Point out several instances. Nowadays the use of 
italics for emphasis is not nearly so common, (6) Why is the heavi- 
ness of the gold bug developed here? (7) Why is the lack of writing 
paper introduced? (8) Why is the interruption caused by the dog 
necessary at this point (line no)? Notice that the narrator is still 
seated by the fire. Look up the further details of the situation as 
explained later (lines 995-1004). What further part does the dog 
play in the story? (9) Why does the visitor say that Legrand is a 
poor artist? (10) Describe the effect on Legrand when he takes back 
the parchment. (11) Why is the visitor allowed to depart on the 
night of his arrival? (12) How does the conversation on pp. 64-65 
advance the action? (13) Notice how the bug is made the cause of 
Legrand's peculiar actions ; also how the method of catching the bug 
in the paper is more fully detailed on p. 61 . (14) How does the letter 
repeat and emphasize part of what Jupiter has just been telling? 
(15) Why has Jupiter bought three spades? (16) In what sense 
does Legrand mean that the bug is of real gold? (17) Describe the 
situation of the tulip tree. (18) Describe Jupiter's ascent of the 
tree. (19) What is suggested by the fact that the limb is rotten? 
How much longer would it have been before all chance to discover 
the gold had passed? (20) Why does Legrand become so excited 
when Jupiter announces he is near the end of the limb? (21) 
Jupiter says the face of the skull is outward. How then can he 
drop the beetle through the eye socket? Do you suppose the top 
of the skull has been sawed off? How can the skull have been 
nailed to the limb otherwise? (22) How do they happen to miss 
the treasure at the first digging? (23) Account for the difference 
in the behavior of the dog at the second digging. (24) Explain 
the presence of the three or four loose coins. Why is Legrand 
disappointed? (25) Why was it necessary to suggest that the 
wooden box had been subjected to some mineralizing process? 
(26) "There was no American money." Why? (27) What is 
suggested by the decayed hull of a ship's longboat near where the 
piece of parchment has been picked up? (28) Why did Poe make 
the narrator somewhat doubtful and always ready to question 
during Legrand's explanation concerning the cryptograph? (29) 
Why are the letters " j " and "v" left out of the alphabet as given 
on p. 69? (30) How do you suppose bishop's hostel became Bessop's 
Castle? Did Captain Kidd make the mistake or were the words 
changed in the mouths of the people? (31 ) Draw on the playground 
a diagram of the position of the ti"ee and the two positions of the 
shot, and extend lines through them for fifty feet (reduced scale 
if necessary), and see how far the two circles of four or five feet in 
dianieter would be from each other. (32) What does "poetical 
consistency" (lines 1445-1446) mean? (33) Is every point in the 
story explained to your entire satisfaction? What becomes of the 



The Notes 411 

treasure? Would it have been better to tell- this, or is it more 
artistic to leave it to the imagination of the reader? 

The Haunted Palace 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem first appeared in the Baltimore Museum, April, 1839. 
A few months later, Poe incorporated it in his story The Fall of the 
House of Usher, which appeared in Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, 
September, 1839. In the story the authorship of the poem is 
appropriately assigned to Roderick Usher, who, in his fits of intense 
mental excitement, composes on his guitar impromptu fantasias 
as accompaniments to weird songs such as this. Read the story 
for its own sake as well as to see how skillfully the poem is intro- 
duced and how well it shows Usher's mental condition. 

EXPLANATORY: 

3, A fair and stately palace. That is, a gifted man. 
5. The monarch Thought's dominion. Poe was himself a mon- 
arch in the intellectual realm, and some believe that he is here 
describing himself as well as his hero Roderick Usher. What is 
the figure of speech? 

20. To a lute's well-tuned law. The lute is an old-fashioned musi- 
cal instrument of the guitar-mandolin type; used here as typical 
of poetical genius. 

22. Porphyrogene. The name of the lord of the stately palace, 
the literal meaning being "born to the purple." Determine the 
pronunciation by the rime. 

29. Echoes. In Greek mythology Echo was a beautiful Oread, 
or mountain nymph. (Look up the story of Narcissus and Echo.) 
Poe here pluralizes the word, using it to represent all sweet sounds 
issuing from the mouth of the poet or singer. 

33. Evil things. Sin in its various forms. 

42. Red-litten. We should now say lit or lighted. What is the 
effect of the archaic participle? 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem is to be interpreted allegorically as the picture 
of a noble or gifted man, a king in the realm of thought, who has 
lost his mind and so had his kingdom taken away from him. 
(2) Why is the palace placed in Thought's dominion? (3) What do 
the yellow banners represent? (4) What is the effect of placing the 
story in "the olden time long ago"? (5) What does the image of the 
"ramparts plumed and pallid" suggest? (6) Who are the wander- 
ers?' (7) Interpret the "two luminous windows." (8) What are 
represented by the spirits? (9) Why are they pictured as dancing 
around Porphyrogene 's throne to the music of the lute? (10) 
Interpret the fair palace door. Why is it described as formed of 
pearl and ruby? (11) What do Echoes represent? (12) Suggest 
some specific interpretations for "evil things." (13) What condi- 
tions do lines 37 to 40 describe? (14) Construe entombed. (15) 
Contrast the pictures presented in stanzas 3 and 6. (16) What 



412 Southern Literary Readings 

does "red-litten windows" suggest to your imagination? What 
physical condition do red, bloodshot eyes indicate? (17) Why 
is the door now described as pale? (18) What sort of laughter 
is that in which there is no smile? (19) Make a plain prose state- 
ment of the argument of the entire poem. (20) Classify the poem. 
Is it capable of adaptation to music? (21) The rhythm is typically 
trochaic, but the sudden variations and irregularities of the meter 
are rather difficult for young students. The artistic modulations 
and charming melody of the lines, however, make the poem a 
favorite with all readers. The musical devices of frequent feminine 
or double rime, abundant alliteration, and skillful repetition, as 
well as the richness and variety of vowel concord and harmony, 
are characteristic of Poe at his best. (22) There are a number of 
slightly "wrenched" accents for the sake of the rime; for example, 
tenanted line 2, where ed must be accented to bring out the rime 
with head. Find similar wrenched accents in stanzas 3, 5, and 6. 
(23) Are valleySf palace (lines i, 3) and river, forever (lines 45, 47) 
good rimes? (24) Find several good examples of alliteration. 
(25) In what tone and with what movement should the poem be 
read? 

The Raven 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The Raven appeared in the Evening Mirror of New York, January 
29, 1845, from advance sheets of the American Whig Review, 
where it was formally published in the February number. In March 
it was reprinted in The Southern Literary Messenger, and later 
in The Broadway Journal, and it also appeared in Poe's volume of 
1845, The Raven and Other Poems. The Raven may be classed as 
a "melancholy, melodramatic, reflective lyric of love and sorrow," 
based on a distinct narrative. Its fundamental theme is the sepa- 
ration of lovers by death. There have been various allegorical 
interpretations suggested as to its real meaning, but Poe's own 
idea that the raven is emblematical of a lover's "mournful and 
never-ending remembrance" of his lost mistress is perhaps the 
best interpretation. An explanation of the genesis and devel- 
opment of the poem is given by the author in the essay on The 
Philosophy of Composition, which will be found immediately follow- 
ing this selection. Though the poem was finished about two years 
before the death of his young wife, Virginia Clemm Poe, it is 
practically certain that Poe intended Lenore to represent her. 
The whole poem, then, is based on Poe's premonitions of what his 
feelings would be when she died, for it was already well known 
that she could not live long. 

EXPLANATORY: 

10. Surcease. Complete cessation. An archaic or poetic word. 

11. Lenore. Burger, a German lyric poet, wrote a ballad under 
this title. Poe was particularly fond of the name. Notice how 
frequently the word is repeated in this poem. 

38. Stately Raven. The raven is a large crow-like bird, noted for 
its intelligence and for its ability to speak when trained. It has long 



The Notes 413 

been siiperstitiously regarded as an omen of death or calamity. 
Look up the effective use of the raven as presaging the murder of 
King Duncan in Macbeth, Act I, Sc. v; and find out also the part 
played by the raven in Dickens's Barnaby Rudge. 

41. Pallas. Another name for Minerva or Athene, the goddess 
of wisdom. 

45. Shorn and shaven. The raven is not ordinarily bald, but 
here the poet so conceives him for grotesque effect. 

47. Nighfs Plutonian shore. Pluto was the god of the lower 
regions. Hence the adjective Plutonian is suggestive of the intense 
darkness of the night. Be careful not to confuse Pluto with Plato. 

76. Gloated. To gloat means to look upon with some evil 
influence, but Poe seems to use the word here in the sense of look or 
shine upon exultingly or lovingly. 

82. Respite. Rest. Nepenthe was a drug or magic drink sup- 
posed by the ancients to free one from sorrow and make one forget 
his troubles. The poet here desires to forget his sorrow on account 
of the death of his beloved Lenore. Pronounce ne pen'the. 

89. Balm in Gilead. "Is there no balm in Gilead; is there no 
physician there?" {Jeremiah, viii. 22.) That is, is there no con- 
solation, no remedy for the sorrows suffered here? Balm or balsam 
is a soothing or healing medicine extracted from the plant of that 
name; it flourished in Gilead, a district of Canaan lying east of the 
Jordan. 

93. Aidenn. A fanciful variant of Eden for the sake of the rime. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Tell the story briefly in your own words. (2) Is there unity 
of effect? Is there anything in the poem that could be omitted with- 
out loss? (3) Point out some of the many noble lines that are easily 
separated from the context. (4) What is the dominant tone? (5) 
Seek to gather the total impression of the poem. Visualize as 
clearly as you can every image. (6) How does the first stanza set 
forth time, place, and incident? (7) What conception do you get 
of the student? How is he engaged? (8) Notice how the furnish- 
ings of the room, as they appear later, accord with his tastes and 
mode of life. (9) What is there in the last line of stanza i to excite 
the reader's curiosity? (10) How is the time more definitely stated 
in the second stanza? (11) How do the weather conditions, the 
incident of the raven's entrance, and the quiet and luxury of the 
interior scene help to create the dominant tone of the poem? (12) 
Notice how suggestive of the sound of moving silk are the words in 
the first line of stanza 3. (13) What is the cause of the student's 
sorrow? In what line is it stated? What, then, is the theme of the 
poem? (14) Why does he hesitate to open the door at first? (15) 
What is the effect of the last line of stanza 4? (16) Of what do you 
think the student is dreaming as he looks out into the darkness? (17) 
What is suggested by ' ' all my soul within me burning " ? (18) What 
do you think of the rimes that is, lattice, thereat is? (19) Why is it 
more effective to have the raven come in at the window than at the 
door? Is there anything unnatural or grotesque in this? (20) 



414 Southern Literary Readings 

"With many a flirt aud flutter, in there stepped a stately Raven." 
How does this image impress you? (21) How do you think the 
black raven on the marble bust would look? (22) You see in the 
first line of the eighth stanza what effect this picture has on the lover. 
Explain it. (23) What sort of question does the lover first put to 
the raven? (24) Why is the "Nevermore" of this stanza and the 
next written with a capital? Explain the use of the capital or small 
letter in this word in other stanzas. (25) In what tone do you think 
the raven utters the word? (See line 56.) (26) Does the scholar 
doubt that this is the bird's name? (27) In the tenth stanza (line 
58) the student apparently classes the raven among his friends. 
Does he seem to regret the probable flight of the bird? (28) What 
hopes of his have flown before? (29) How does Poe's own experience 
compare with that of the student as set forth here? (30) Why 
is the bird called ominous? (See note on line 38.) (31) In what 
state of mind is the student as he sinks into his velvet cushions? 
(32) Why do the bird's fiery eyes burn into his soul? (33) Why 
is he afraid of the bird? (34) Why is she italicized? To whom 
does Poe refer? (35) Why does the air seem to grow denser? 

(36) Can you fix clearly in your mind the image of tinkling footfalls? 

(37) To whom does wretch refer? Who speaks, and to whom? 

(38) How is he affected by the raven's startling answer to his solilo- 
q'^y? (39) In what tone does he appeal to the raven to know if 
there is balm in Gilead? What is there to show that he is highly 
excited now? (40) Do you think he has already guessed the answer 
the raven will give? (41) Poe says he wrote stanza 16 (lines 91-96) 
first and intended it to be the climax of the poem. How does the 
whole poem seem to center in this stanza? (42) Why in the next 
stanza does the lover shriek and order the bird back into the night? 

(43) What is the meaning of "take thy beak from out my heart"? 

(44) What is implied in the raven's answer to this appeal? (45) 
How many times does the line "Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore,'" 
occur? (46) How does the lover's mood change in the last stanza? 
(47) What is meant by the last two lines? Does the lover give up 
all hope of forgetting his lost Lenore? Does he also give up hope 
of gaining surcease of his sorrow? (48) Some have criticized the 
poem here because the shadow could not have fallen on the floor 
unless the lamp were on the wall above the bird. Poe said his 
idea was that there was a bracket candelabrum on the wall high 
above the bust and the door. Does he make this idea quite clear 
anywhere in the poem? (49) The typical foot is trochaic, and the 
number of stresses is eight except in the last line of the stanza, 
which has four stresses. The lines ending in the masculine rime 
-ore are catalectic; that is, they lack one syllable of filling out the 
trochaic rhythm. (See Poe's own remarks on the meter, pp. 95-96, 
and the note, p. 416.) Scan the first two lines. The pause after 
dreary really divides the line into two tetrameter or four-stress 
lines, and the internal rime {dreary, weary) emphasizes the break. 
But in many other lines there is no pause at this point, and the 
rime is much less emphatic. Find examples. (50) Study out 
fully the rime scheme of the whole poem. Notice that the only 



The Notes 41^ 

masculine or single-syllable rime is on the deep o-vowel in combina- 
tion with r, as in -ore. How often and where does this rime occur? 
What is the effect of the feminine rimes, like weary, dreary, napping 
tapping, rapping ? Find other examples of feminine rimes repeated 
two, three, and even four times. (51) Notice how repetition and 
refrain are constantly employed, as in lines 4 and 5, and 21 and 22. 
Point out several other instances. The whole poem may be said 
to be a study in refrain effects. (52) Alliteration is another kind 
of rime or sound agreement, in which the first consonant sounds of 
words or accented syllables are the same. Examples are "rare and 
radiant," "silken, sa,6., uncertain," "grim, ungainly, ghostly, gaunt." 
Find others. All of this, together with the rich, deep vowel com- 
binations, adds to the sonorousness and melody of the poem. (53) 
Besides this abundant tone quality, there is much to make the poem 
richly sensuous. Take, for example, the quaint and curious volume, 
the curtains of purple silk, the sculptured bust of Pallas, the seats of 
cushioned velvet, the gloating lamplight, the perfume, etc. The 
luxurious, the beautiful, the fantastic, the weird, the grotesque, are 
wonderfully blended throughout. 

The Philosophy of Composition 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The Philosophy of Composition appeared in Graham's Magazine, 
April, 1846, about fourteen months after the first appearance of 
The Raven. The poem had sprung at once into wide popularity, and 
the author was thus justified in choosing that well-known compo- 
sition as the subject of his analysis. All appearances of egotism or 
self-praise are carefully avoided, and the essay thus becomes of 
permanent interest as an example of Poe's critical acumen and 
analytical power. There is the same careful and full logic here 
which we have already noticed as one of the chief characteristics 
of the style of The Gold Bug. Every detail is carefully elaborated, 
and no point in the process of composition or in the mechanism of 
the poem is left in doubt. If we are to accept with full credence 
all that Poe has to say in this essay, we are forced to the conclusion 
that The Raven was composed almost mechanically. But the fire 
of genius, the glow of spontaneous production, the light of inspira- 
tion, are apparent everywhere in the poem, and it rises far above 
the mere mechanical type of poetical composition. It must be 
remembered that the analysis was written something over a year 
after the poem was published, and hence contains, doubtless, some 
ideas that came subconsciously into the author's mind simultane- 
ously with or subsequently to the actual composition of the poem. 

The essay should be read only after a careful study and analysis 
of the poem itself. 

EXPLANATORY: 

3. " Barnaby Rudge." In the Saturday Evening Post, in 1841, 
Poe,. who had seen the serial parts of the first volume of Barnaby 
Rudge, predicted the plot of the novel with such absolute preci- 
sion as to startle its author. Dickens was amazed by Poe's powers 



4i6 Southern Literary Readings 

of concentrated reasoning and his perfect prevision in analysis. 
Says — . Notice how frequently Poe employs the dash where 
modern usage would require a comma or some other mark of punc- 
tuation. Notice also his frequent use of the comma for a rhetorical 
or elocutionary pause in the reading, where the sense or construction 
would not require it, and hence where modern usage would omit it. 
Make a careful study of the punctuation of this essay. 

4. Godwin. William Godwin was a noted novelist, philosopher, 
and miscellaneous writer of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth 
century. His best-remembered production is the novel Caleb 
Williams , published in 1794. 

16. Denouement. Unraveling of plot, ending; a French word 
found frequently in this essay. Pronounced da-noo'maN. 

65. Histrio. Actor. A Latin word. 

75. Desideratum. Thing to be desired. Latin. Modus ope- 
randi, just below, is another bit of Latin, meaning method of pro- 
cedure or operation. Make a complete list of the foreign words 
and phrases and their meanings, and consider their general effect 
on the style of the essay. 

96. Ceteris paribus. Other things being equal. From what 
language? 

104. Psychal. Of the soul. 

140. A few words. The verb phrase has been intentionally 
omitted. Supply the full sense. 

328. Less of invention than negation. The meaning apparently 
is that originality consists more in the negative mental action of 
refusing to follow established models than in the positive mental 
action required in finding or inventing entirely new forms. Do you 
agree with this? t 

331. Acatalectic. Not curtailed or cut short. Catalectic means 
cut short by one syllable. 

464. ^ Transcendentalists. Those who held to transcendentalism, 
a doctrine of philosophy setting forth intuitive or immediate com- 
prehension of truth without the intervention of experience or 
reason. They stood generally for a sort of idealism, mysticism, 
and liberalism, in art and in life. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What type of composition is this? (2) How may it be 
divided into large divisions? Consider the first seven paragraphs 
as one part and the remainder of the composition as another. (3) 
Now, how may the subheads be arranged under each part? Consider 
the following as merely suggestive : 

A . General discussion of methods of composing. 

1 . How to begin a work of art. 

2. Different methods of constructing a story. 

B. Application to a specific composition: The Raven. 

1. First aim, universality of appeal. 

2. Extent or length of the poem determined. (Make several 

subdivisions here.) 

3. The impression or effect to be attained. 



The Notes 41 "/ 

4. Sadness the proper tone. 

5. Artistic piquancy to be attained by the device of the refrain. 

6. The nature of the proposed refrain. 

7. The method of monotonous repetition determined and the 

raven selected as the means. 

8. The most poetical thing in the world. 

9. Combining the raven and the bereft-lover motives. 

10. The actual composition beginning with the end. 

1 1 . The versification determined ; the stanza original. 

12. The setting. 

13. The use of contrast. 

14. The end of the narrative proper. 

15. The metaphorical application. 

(4) What does Poe condemn in the usual method of beginning the 
composition of a story? (5) What is his own method of beginning? 
(6) Why does he insist that a poem should not be too long to be 
readat one sitting? (7) Did he ever write a long poem? (8) In an- 
other essay Poe said: "I hold that a long poem does not exist. I 
maintain that the phrase 'a long poem' is simply a flat contradiction 
in terms." Do you agree entirely with him in this? Do you accept 
the statement that Paradise Lost is deprived by its length of totality 
or unity of effect? (9) In what sense does the author insist that 
beauty is the sole legitimate province of the poem? What nine- 
teenth-century English poet held practically the same view? The 
following quotations are from this poet: "A thing of beauty is a 
joy forever"; "Beauty is truth, truth beauty — that is all ye know 
on earth, and all ye need to know. " (10) Do you think that sadness 
is the most poetical of all moods? Another English poet has said, 
"Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought." Can 
you name the poet and place this quotation? (11) Poe says "the 
long o is the most sonorous vowel" and "r the most producible 
consonant." Exactly what does he mean by this? (12) Why did 
the poet write first the stanza containing the climax? (13) Do you 
understand what Poe has to say 5,bout the verse? Scan a stanza 
of the poem and thus test your knowledge. (14) In what points 
of technique does he claim some originality? (15) Note the distinct 
change in tone, in the passages quoted, to illustrate the grotesque 
or fantastic element and that in which profound seriousness is 
dominant. (16) How do the last stanzas differ from the rest of 
the poem? (17) Explain what the author means by "the first 
metaphorical expression." (18) What does he set forth as the 
final allegorical meaning of the whole poem? How is this thought 
expressed in the poem? Is it literal, metaphorical, or suggestive? 
(19) Now read the poem through again, recalling all you can of the 
analysis as presented in the essay just studied. 

The Bells 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The Bells was first published in the April number of the Home 
Journal, 1849. It also appeared in Sartain's Union Magazine in 
November of the same year. 

27 



4i8 Southern Literary Readings 

EXPLANATORY: 

10. Runic rhyme. A rune is an early type of alphabetic char- 
acter used by the Germanic peoples before the introduction of the 
Roman characters. Runes were looked upon as mysterious signs; 
hence the meaning of the adjective here is mystic, mysterious. 

11. Tintinnabulation. An example of onomatapoeia, or the 
adaptation of sound to sense. Note how well the word expresses 
the ringing or tinkling of bells. 

20. Molten-golden. Melted gold, as though the notes were made 
of liquid gold. 

23. Turtle-dove. Emblematic of love. Poe seems to use gloat 
in the sense of to gaze steadily on, with no connotation of malign 
or evil influence. Compare the note on line 76 of The Raven. 

72. Monody. A melancholy poem or ode sung by one voice; 
here used as representative of the single tone or note of the bell 
tolling for the dead. Compare "muffled monotone" just below. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Outline the poem, giving a suitable heading for each of the 
stanzas. (2) Notice with what period of life each stanza deals. 
The poem, then, is an allegorical presentation of human life — youth, 
marriage, misfortune, death. Prove this. (3) In this view is appar- 
ent its perfect unity. What other unifying devices do you discover? 
Examine the opening and closing lines of each stanza. (4) What 
further parallelisms do you notice in the structure of the stanzas? 
(5) How many lines are there in each stanza? (6) Do you find 
any cumulative refrain effects as the stanzas increase in length? 
(7) Why is this artistic? The whole poem may be considered as 
a kind of study of climaK, increasing in intensity and rapidity of 
movement continuously to the close. (8) How would you classify 
this poem, now that you understand its meaning somewhat more 
fully? (9) Examine the poem for musical effects. Note how many 
fine examples of onomatapoeia there are in it. Point out several. 
(10) What onomatapoetic words are used to distinguish the 
different kinds of bells? (11) What various metals does the poet 
select for the different subjects treated? Why is each appro- 
priate? (12) How do you think the paired words, jingling and 
tinkling, jangling and wrangling, clamor and clangor, moaning and 
groaning, etc., help to create the desired effect? (13) Study the 
rimes carefully, noticing how many of them are feminine, like 
sprinkle, twinkle. (14) Find several examples of internal rime, 
like swinging, ringing, line 31. (15) What rime sound is most fre- 
quently repeated in the poem? Notice how suggestive it is of the 
sound of bells. Compare its continuous use with that of the -ore 
rime in The Raven. (16) Why are certain words so many times 
repeated? (17) Study the numerous examples of alliteration 
throughout the poem, such as merriment . . . melody, in line 3. (18) 
Study also the assonance or vowel concord, as in "jcy air of m'ght. " 
(19) Notice the predominance of the light i, 1, and e, e vowels in the 
first, the broad, full a, o, and a vowels in the second, the rapid con- 
trasts and clashes of various vowels in the third, and the deep, 



The Notes /fig 

sonorous o sounds in the fourth stanza. (20) What movements 
would you assign to the different stanzas? How would you read 
each? (21) What time is noted in each stanza? How does this 
help to unify and emphasize the general effect? Why are sounds 
better heard at night? (22) How is night conceived of in such 
expressions as "the startled ear of night"? (23) What is the 
difference between the terror in stanza 3 and the affright in stanza 4? 
(24) In the original manuscript the eighth line of the fourth stanza 
read, "From out their ghostly throats." Why is the line in the 
text an improvement over this? What does rust suggest to the 
imagination? (25) How and why is the loneliness of the bell- 
tollers emphasized? (26) What is suggested by lines 84 and 85? 
(27) Why are the people who toll the bells called ghouls? (28) Why 
do they seem to rejoice in tolling death knells? (29) Why is the 
king of ghouls introduced? (30) How are the first and last stanzas 
organically and technically united in the latter part of the last 
stanza? 

Annabel Lee 
INTRODUCTORY: 

In this poem Poe celebrates his love for his cousin Virginia Clemm, 
who while yet a mere child became his wife, and over whom he 
watched and for whom he cared with a pathetic tenderness through 
her long struggle against that terrible monster consumption. She 
died in 1847, and the poem may have been written shortly after 
her death. It was not published, however, until 1849, the year of 
Poe's death, when it appeared in the New York Tribune, October 9. 

EXPLANATORY: 

12. Coveted. Compare envying in line 22, and mark the slight 
distinction in the meanings of the two words. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What is the theme of the lyric? Sum up the whole poem 
in one sentence. (2) What time is indicated in line i, and what 
is the effect of this? (3) Why did the author choose the indefinite 
"kingdom by the sea"? (4) What do you suppose led him to select 
the name Annabel Lee? Repeat it aloud several times; notice 
how often it occurs in the poem. (5) What is the meaning of lines 
15, 16? (6) How is this thought made more emphatic in lines 25, 
26? (7) How, then, does the speaker explain the death of his 
loved one? (8) How does he console himself in the last lines (30- 
41)? (9) How are sweetness and melody increased in these last 
lines? (Study the sound and position of the words ever, dissever, 
never; beams, dreams; rise, eyes; tide, side, bride.) (10) How many 
words and phrases are repeated for musical effect? (11) How 
should the poem be read? (Loudly, softly, rapidly, slowly, moder- 
ately?) (12) What is the principal emotion expressed? (13) The 
movement of this poem is typically anapaestic, that is, usually 
two light or unaccented syllables precede each accented or stressed 
syllable in the line ; and usually the lines of four accented or stressed 
syllables are followed by lines of three stresses. (14) Point out 



420 Southern Literary Readings 

several substitutions of iambic for anapaestic feet. This gives 
variety and prevents mechanical monotony in the rhythm. (15) 
Occasionally the rhythm seems reversed, that is, dactylic instead 
of anapaestic. Examine and scan lines 7, 10, 26. It is perhaps 
better to assume omitted syllables at the beginning of the line and 
thus preserve the anap^stic rhythm throughout. 

The Masque of the Red Death 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The Masque of the Red Death was first published in Graham's 
Magazine, May, 1842, and later appeared in a somewhat revised 
form in the Broadway Journal, II, 2. It belongs to the group of 
horror stories by Poe, and is an excellent example of vivid and imagi- 
native descriptive and narrative writing, rich in color and subtle 
suggestiveness, and eminently characteristic of Poe's genius at its 
best. 

EXPLANATORY: 

Masque. This is a variant, after the French spelling, of mask. 
It is used here in the sense of a masquerade or masked ball, 

I. Red Death. Poe invented this disease, though it may have 
been suggested by smallpox, which was at the time he wrote much 
more fatal in its effect than now. 

3. A vatar. This word means literally a descent, and was applied 
in the original Sanscrit to the descent of a Hindu deity to earth in a 
natural form, that is, a form manifest to human beings. Hence 
the meaning here is visible manifestation or sign. Pronounced 
av'd-tar'. 

7. Pest ban. A barp is a proclamation or edict; here it is used 
as a sign of the curse or interdiction which was set upon one attacked 
by the pest. 

II. Prince Prospero. The name is suggested by Shakspere's 
character in The Tempest, the Duke of Milan, who was shipwrecked 
on an island and there learned to work enchantments througl.i 
Ariel and other spirits. 

16. Castellated abbeys. Castellated means provided with towers 
and battlements. An abbey is literally the residence of an abbot, 
or a group of buildings inhabited by monks. Here it is used for 
king's palace or castle. 

28. Improvvisatori. Musicians or poets who made up their 
entertainment spontaneously or without previous practice or study. 
The plural form here used is the Italian. Pronounced im'prov-ve'- 
zato're. Why does Poe use this form? 

39. Suite. A French word. Literally, following; here, a series 
of connected apartments. How is the word pronounced? 

112. Decora. Customs, outward proprieties. The Latin plural 
of decorum. 

123. Hernani. A romantic drama by Victor Hugo. It has 
several scenes of fantastic and grotesque effect. Arabesque means 
fanciful, after the manner of the Roman and Renaissance ornamen- 
tation known as arabesque, so termed because most successfully 



The Notes 421 

employed by Arabian artists. Poe called the collection in which 
The Red Death appeared Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, a 
finely descriptive title, as this story amply illustrates. 

149. Their ears. An objective genitive; more properly "the 
ears of those." 

175. Out-Heroded Herod. Herod was the ruler of Judea about 
the time of the birth of Christ. In old plays in which he was 
represented, his role was characterized by ranting and boisterous 
acting. So the phrase "out-Herod Herod," first used in Shakspere's 
Hamlet, developed the meaning of surpass or outdo. 

THOUGHT .QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Read the opening and the closing sentence, and then recall 
the progress of the story, noticing how perfectly the whole is unified. 
(2) State the theme in one sentence. (3) Is there any lesson taught? 
(4) Is there any definite time fixed for the story? Any definite 
place? (5) In what country do you imagine the scene is laid? 
Do the tastes of the prince and the descriptions of his luxurious 
surroundings offer any suggestion? (6) How is the Red Death 
described in the first paragraph? (7) How is the character of the 
prince set forth? (8) Has he taken the thousand of his knights 
and dames to protect them from the plague, or to gratify himself? 
(9) Why do they weld the bars in the iron gates? (10) Explain 
ingress and egress, and make a list of similar words that are inter- 
esting for their etymology. (11) What part of the narrative begins 
at the third paragraph? (12) Describe the scene of the masquerade. 
(13) What is the dominant tone in all the description? (14) Why 
is a new paragraph devoted to the ebony clock? Why ebony? (15) 
What do you think of the sounds issuing from this clock? (16) How 
do they affect the musicians and masqueraders? (17) How is this 
motive worked up to a climax? Notice how many times the strik- 
ing of the clock is mentioned. (18) Why does the author insert 
the parenthetical remark about the three thousand and six hundred 
seconds? (19) Does this seem to be the first intimation of unhap- 
piness or coming disaster? (20) What is the general character of 
the costumes? Is the dominant tone continually subserved in 
these details? (21) What is the effect of calling the mummers 
dreams? (22) What happens at the stroke of twelve by the ebony 
clock? (23) What emotions are aroused here? (24) Why do the 
revelers object to having an image or mask of the Red Death among 
them? (25) Describe in detail the costume of the strange mummer. 
What is the effect on your feelings? (26) Why is the word blood 
italicized? (27) A separate paragraph is devoted to Prince Pros- 
pero's emotion on seeing the strange mummer. Why? (28) Why 
did the author put the scene of this outbreak in the eastern room? 
(29) Why do the courtiers refuse to seize the intruder? (30) Do 
the colors of the rooms as here given follow the order as set forth 
on p. 107? (31) What is the prince's purpose in rushing after the 
strange mummer? (32) How do you explain his death in the 
black-draped, scarlet-lit room? (33) Why do the other revelers 
finally follow the mummer? (34) What do they find in the mask 



/122 Southern Literary Readings 

and grave-clothes? Can you explain this? (35) What does the 
figure really typify? (36) Can you offer any solution of the mystery 
of the ebony clock and the appearance of the Red Death inside the 
castle? (37) Compare this story with Lady Eleanore's Mantle, 
a similar tale by Hawthorne, in Twice-told Tales. 

Land of the South 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This song is introduced in a long patriotic poem of mediocre 
quality, called The Day of Freedom, which the poet read at a celebra- 
tion held in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, July 4, 1838. 

EXPLANATORY: 

19. Helvyn's hills. The Swiss Alps. 

21. Tempe. The valley between Mounts Olympus and Ossa in 
Thessaly, northern Greece, famous for its idyllic beauty. 

33. Heaven's best gift. Quoted with slight changes from Milton's 
Paradise Lost, V, 18. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What is the theme of this lyric, and how is it repeated in every 
stanza? (2) Select a suitable topic for each of the six stanzas, and 
thus construct a simple outline of the poem. (3) What natural 
scenic beauties are mentioned in stanzas i and 2 ? (4) What is the 
force of the comparisons in stanza 3? (5) Did the wish or hope 
expressed in the last stanza remain unfulfilled?* Did Meek carry 
out the resolution expressed in the last two lines? (6) The me- 
ter is iambic four- and three-stress verses, with alternate rime 
throughout the stanza except in the fifth and seventh lines, which 
are unrimed. , 

The Mocking-bird 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This excellent lyric is given the second place in Judge Meek's 
Songs and Poems of the South. Dr. Charles Hunter Ross speaks of 
it as "the best poem of Meek's collection," and he adds that his 
friend Professor Morgan Callaway, Jr., who has made a special study 
of a large number of poems on the mocking bird, considers Meek's 
superior to any of the others. 

EXPLANATORY: 

12. Mime. An imitator or mimic. 

16. Crusader. A medieval Christian knight who went on one 
of the various military expeditions against the Saracens in the Hol>^ 
Land. 

25. Petrarch. One of the greatest of the Italian lyric poets 
(1304-1374). His love sonnets to his proud mistress Laura be- 
came the model for many imitations in both Italian and English 
literature. 

32. Anacreon. A Greek lyric poet (563[?]-478 B.C.) who wrote 
principally on themes of love and sensuous pleasure. 

38. Troubadour. An early French lyric poet of the Provencal 
district, who sang principally of love and war. See note 104, p. 405. 



The Notes 423 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem is properly classified as a nature or bird lyrie, 
though in reality it may also be called a love song. Why? (2) 
At what time does the poet hear the bird? Is this true to the habits 
of the mocking bird? (3) Where does the poet imagine himself, 
and who is with him? (4) What trees are mentioned for local color 
effect in stanza i? (5) Why is the bird called "wild poet" and 
"mime and minstrel"? (6) Explain the allusion to Petrarch and 
Laura, and say just what is meant by "sylvan Petrarch" and 
"woodland Laura." (7) Why is the mocking bird called "winged 
Anacreon" and "troubadour"? (8) Does the poem rise to a fitting 
climax? Explain. (9) The meter is trochaic four-stress with an 
eight-line stanza and a four-line refrain, all alternately rimed. 
Which lines have feminine and which masculine rimes? (10) In 
which stanza is the feminine rime lacking in the first and third 
lines? (11) Find two examples of imperfect rime, and say whether 
or not you think they seriously mar the poem. (12) Compare this 
poem with the one by Hilton Ross Greer on p. 366. 

The Bivouac of the Dead 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. Muffled drum. Drums are usually muffled when used in 
beating the funeral march. 

20. Shroud. A soldier who falls in battle is honored by being 
shrouded or wrapped in his country's flag. 

36. Serried. Drawn up rank upon rank in battle array. The 
foe was led by Santa Anna, the great Mexican commander, who had 
over twenty thousand men as against less than five thousand under 
the American general, Zachary Taylor. 

47. Chieftain. General Zachary Taylor. In the next stanza 
(lines 53-56) reference is made to General Taylor's career in the 
War of 1 812, in which he commanded a company of Kentuckians 
in the campaigns against the Indian allies of England. 

57. Norther. A cold northern wind in winter. 

58. Angostura. Literally "the narrows," a pass leading from 
the south to the plateau of Buena Vista ("beautiful view"), where 
the battle was fought. 

65. Dark and Bloody ground. This is said to be the meaning of 
-the Indian word Kentucky. 

75. Spartan mother. Sparta was the southern province of ancient 
Greece and was notable for her heroic soldiers. The Spartan 
mothers sent their sons to war with the command to return "with 
their shields or on them." The large, old-fashioned shields were 
made to cover the entire body, and were sometimes used as stretchers 
on which to bear off the slain from the battle field. 

83. Impious. Irreverent. Accent the first syllable. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What type of poem is this? See the sketch of O'Hara. 
(2) Outline the progress ot the thought in the poem. Put the 



424 Southern Literary Readings 

first four stanzas under one heading, the fifth to the eighth under 
another, and the last four under a third, supplying such subheadings 
as you think appropriate. (3) Determine the tone of the poem. 
(4) Is this tone preserved throughout? (5) Show that there is 
unity of thought and subject matter as well as of tone. (6) What 
military figures are appropriately used in the first stanza? (7) 
What is meant by silent tents ^ line 6? (8) Explain the figure of 
speech illustrated in Life's, Fame's, Glory. (9) Does this descrip- 
tion of soldier life appeal to you vividly? (10) Look up in your 
history all you can find on the battle of Buena Vista and General 
Zachary Taylor. (11) What figure is in fines 33-36? (12) What 
is the subject of had waged, line 43? (13) What is the meaning of 
"vengeful blood of Spain," line 44? (14) Restate in prose 
order lines 47 and 48. (15) Explain the thought in lines 53-56. 
(16) What is the significance of laurels, line 54? (17) Give the 
prose equivalents of norther's breath, and pitying sky has wept, lines 
57 and 59. (18) How does the poet conceive of the battle field in 
lines 61-64? (19) Why is the air called heedless in line 68? (20) 
How is Kentucky conceived of in lines 75-76? (21) What is meant 
by line 89? (22) Memorize the first, fourth, eleventh, and twelfth 
stanzas. (23) Examine the stanza for its structure, determining 
the rime scheme, the meter, and the rhythm. (24) Is the rime true 
in lines 9 and 11? How should advance be pronounced to make the 
rime approximately true? Find similar slightly faulty rimes in 
stanzas 3 and 5. (25) Notice how hurricane would have to be 
accented to make lines 33 and 35 really rime. Find in stanza 10 a 
similar instance of wrenched accent. (26) How should wind in line 
10 be pronounced? (27) The meter is called "double common 
meter" in hymnody; that is, there are two quatrains of alternate 
four- and three-stress lines in each stanza. The four-stress lines are 
denominated "long meter," the three-stress lines "short meter," 
but the combination of four and three is called "common meter." 
(28) The rhythm is iambic. Determine how many syllables should 
be pronounced in bivouac (line 8), warriors (line 14), plumed (line 18), 
flower (line 51), beloved (line 51). (29) There are numerous examples 
of reversed accent, particularly at the beginning of a line, as in 
line 53. 



The Daughter of Mendoza 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This lyric was found among President Lamar's papers after his 
death. The poem celebrates the charms of a beautiful South 
American woman from the province of Mendoza, in the Argentine 
Republic. The name Mendoza is a noted one in Spanish history, 
and the Indian girl who attracted President Lamar's notice is thought 
to have been a descendant of Don Pedro de Mendoza, the Spanish 
explorer who founded the city of Buenos Aires. The name is prop- 
erly pronounced mSn-dO'tha, though men-do'sa is more commonly 
heard. 



The Notes 425 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Classify the poem. (2) What is the unit of thought in the 
first stanza? In the second? (3) The last two stanzas change the 
point of view from simple objective description to personal address. 
What is the effect of this? (4) What comparisons are made in 
stanza 3? (5) Is there much sorrow expressed at the prospect of 
separation? (6) Do you think this is a love poem, or merely a poem 
of admiration for "a thing of beauty"? Remember that President 
Lamar lost his young wife before he left Georgia, and seventeen 
years later married again ; and he was nearly sixty years old when he 
wrote this poem. (7) How has the poet in a way fulfilled the proph- 
ecy of the last two lines? (8) Notice the striking and individual 
combination of rimes in this excellent stanza. The first and third 
lines are consistently rimed in double or feminine sounds, and the 
fifth, sixth, and seventh make a triplet of masculine rimes. The last 
line is a repetend or refrain with a slight change in the last two 
stanzas. Verify this rime scheme throughout the poem. (9) The 
meter is alternate iambic four-stress and three-stress verse, the short 
lines having an extra final syllable on account of the feminine rimes. 
Scan a stanza. 

A Health 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem has been classed by some as a convivial lyric, but 
it is simply a love song cast in the form of a toast, and there 
is nothing of the liveliness and jollity of the typical drinking song 
in the lyric. Professor F. V. N. Painter says: "The flowing and 
lilting melody of this . . . song is quite remarkable. It is trace- 
able to the skillful use of liquid consonants, and the avoidance 
of harsh consonant combinations." The poem, says Weber, was 
written in honor of Mrs. Rebecca Somerville of Baltimore. Though 
it is usually printed in the eight-line stanzaic arrangement, we have 
preferred here the four-line arrangement as given in the Library 0/ 
Southern Literature. 

EXPLANATORY: 

8. Burthened. An older form of burdened. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

' (l) Why is the poem called A Health? (2) What general 
description is given in stanza i ? (3) What is the topic of the second 
stanza? Of the third? (4) How does the fourth stanza summarize 
the topics of the preceding stanzas and come to a fitting, if somewhat 
hyperbolic, climax? (5) In what way does the last stanza echo the 
first and thus make a definite conclusion? (6) In what meter is the 
poem written? (7) Study the rime scheme, noting particularly the 
additional internal rime in the first and fourth lines of each stanza. 
In which stanza does the poet fail to make this double internal rime 
in one line? 



426 Southern Literary Readings 

Florence Vane 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem was written in 1839 and in 1840 was first printed in 
the March number of Burton's Gentleman'' s Magazine, then under 
the editorship of Poe. Professor Painter quotes one of Cooke's 
unpubhshed letters written in 1 841, in which the poet says: "Tell 
Mary [his sister] that the little piece of verse 'Florence Vane,' that 
I wrote two years ago, is getting me an amusing reputation among 
the ladies far and near. Hewitt, the Baltimore composer, is about 
to set it to music, and Russell has done so in New York. ... It 
was a lucky little bark, and the winds and waters have been favorable 
to it. I, who built it, know that it was no great thing, and that 
I can build a better any day. I think I will write some more of 
these little pieces this winter." In the Southern Literary Messenger 
of June, 1850, a letter on Florence Vane by J. Hunt, Jr., addressed 
"from the Banks of the Ohio, March 19th, 1850," is reprinted from 
the Cincinnati Gazette. Mr. Hunt explains that he had named 
his baby daughter Florence Vane and had requested the poet to 
send him a manuscript copy of the poem. This Cooke did, adding 
a note on the manuscript, a part of which follows: "The idea 
contained in the two lines of the third stanza, 

" 'Thy heart was as a river 
Without a main' — 

is not clearly expressed. . . . My meaning, I suppose, was that 
Florence did not lack the capacity to love, but directed her love 
to no object. Her passion went flowing like the currents of a lost 
river. . . . When little Florence Vane comes after a while, in 
inquiring how her name* originated, to read this, she may care to 
know that 'Florence Vane' came into my mind one spring day as 
I walked in a flower-garden and heard my young wife sing from a 
window of an old country house." 

EXPLANATORY: 

13. Elysian. Pertaining to Elysium, the Greek paradise; 
hence perfect, blessed. 

19. Closes. Poetical cadences. 

22. Main. Sea. See the introductory note above. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) How is the tone of the whole poem struck in the first stanza? 
(2) Tell the story as it is related in the poem. (3) Why is the former 
meeting place of the lovers now described as lone and hoary? (4) 
What three comparisons are made in the third stanza? (5) Even 
though Florence Vane had disdained his love, what wish does the 
lover express in the last stanza? (6) The meter is a combination 
of three-stress and two-stress iambic lines, the longer lines having 
double or feminine rimes, and the shorter ones masculine rimes. 
Is this a pleasing combination? (7) The emphasis on the title words 
is strongly brought out both by repetition and by a metrical device. 
Explain just what this metrical device is. (8) Of the three poems, 



The Notes 42 y 

The Daughter of Mendoza, A Health, atid Florence Vane, which do 
you Hke best? 

Every Year 

INTRODUCTORY: 

Ihe poem was written in the sad period immediately succeeding 
the Civil War. At first there were only seven stanzas, but there 
were added from time to time additional ones until there are now in 
sor 3 editions thirteen, and one of these has been shown to be taken 
bodily from the English poet A. C. Swinburne's Garden of Proserpine. 
Professor C. Alphonso Smith thinks that this was interpolated by 
some irresponsible editor without the knowledge or consent of the 
author. The poet's daughter, Mrs. Lilian Pike Roome, asserts that 
the stanzas given here are the only authentic ones. 

At best the poem, even as it appears in the authorized editions, 
is diffuse and lacking in unity and compactness of structure. The 
form, however, is exceedingly attractive, and this is doubtless what 
has given it so prominent a place in the popular esteem. The tone 
is almost pessimistic, but we could hardly expect it to be otherwise, 
coming to light, as it did, in the gloomy years of the Reconstruc- 
tion period. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem may be analyzed as the expression of a gloomy or 
pessimistic mood, each stanza repeating some phase of loss, sorrow, or 
misfortune. The last stanza is the only one in which a note of hope 
is struck, and that is hope for happiness beyond the grave. The 
last stanza may be said, then, to constitute the second or concluding 
section of the poem. Try to summarize the stanzas separately, 
and notice how unity is violated, many of the ideas being repeti- 
tions from preceding stanzas. (2) The meter is at base iambic 
three-stress, but there are numerous inversions, substitutions of 
anapaestic feet, and other irregularities. Throughout the poem 
anacrusis, or the addition of an extra syllable at the end of the longer 
lines, is employed in order to make the constant recurrence of 
feminine rimes. The third and fourth stanzas are fairly regular; 
scan these. (3) What is the effect of the refrain? 



Music in Camp 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem is said to be based on an actual incident of the battle 
of Fredericksburg, December 10 to 13, 1862. But Thompson has 
made the setting in the summer rather than the winter, and some 
doubt is expressed as to the exact identity of the battle referred to. 

EXPLANATORY: 

2. Rappahannock's waters. Trace this river through Virginia. 

8. Embrasure. An opening through which a cannon may be 
fired. Each dread gun refers, of course, to the thunder hidden away 
in the clouds. 



428 Southern Literary Readings 

65. Iris. The rainbow. In Greek mythology Iris was the 
goddess of the rainbow and a messenger of the gods. 

76. One touch of Nature. "One touch of Nature makes the whole 
world kin." Shakspere, Troilus and Cressida, Act III, Sc. iii. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What is the fundamental theme of the ballad? (See the last 
stanza.) (2) Analyze this simple ballad, or narrative poem, by 
dividing it into setting, first minor incident, second minor incident, 
main incident, and conclusion. (3) What two armies are camped 
on opposite banks of the Rappahannock? (4) Explain the figures 
of speech in stanza 2. Why are the military figures appropriate? 
(5) At what time of day does the incident occur? Explain how the 
poet uses this circumstance effectively. (6) Why does the Federal 
band play all the selections? Do you imagine the Confederates had 
a band? (7) Describe the tone of the first two airs played. (8) 
What tone is given to the third selection? (9) What effect has the 
last selection on the soldiers? Why do you think they are thus 
moved? (10) The meter is the ballad measure of iambic four- 
and three-stress lines in alternately rimed quatrains, the second 
and fourth lines having an extra syllable on account of the 
feminine rimes. (11) How would the following words have to be 
pronounced to make pure rimes: embrasure, splendor, cymbal, 
fairy, creature? 

Little Giflfen 
INTRODUCTORY: 

Miss Michelle Ticknor says that this poem is based on fact in 
every detail. It first appeared in The Land We Love, a paper 
published in Charlotte, North Carolina. Mrs. Rosalie Nelson 
Ticknor, who is still living, tells how she found little Giffen in one 
of the improvised hospitals in Columbus, where she went daily to 
minister to the wounded and sick soldiers. She begged her hus- 
band. Dr. Ticknor, to have the boy moved to Torch Hill, where she 
might care for him, for the helplessness of this emaciated lad of 
sixteen had appealed strongly to her sympathies. With careful 
nursing and nourishing food the boy slowly regained his health, 
and during his convalescence Mrs. Ticknor taught him to read and 
write. His full name was Isaac Newton Giffen. He was the son 
of a Tennessee blacksmith, and had joined General Joseph E. 
Johnston's army early in the war. It was in September, 1863, 
that Giffen was brought to Torch Hill, and in the following March, 
when he heard that his old leader was hard pressed. at the front, 
he went forward to join Johnston's command. Nothing further 
was ever heard of him, and there is no doubt of his death in some 
battle immediately following. With the true poet's insight the 
Good-Samaritan doctor saw the supreme heroism displayed by this 
simple blue-eyed country boy, and wrote the poem of which Maurice 
Thompson said, "If there is a finer lyric in the whole realm of poetry, 
I should be glad to read it," and of which Professor C. Alphonso 
Smith declares, "In the simplicity of its pathos, the intensity of 



The Notes 429 

its appeal, and the dramatic concentration of its thought Little 
Giffen ranks among the best short poems in American literature." 

EXPLANATORY: 

I . Focal. Central, situated at the focus or central point. Fire 
is here used for the firing line in battle. 

12. Lazarus. Look up the story in Luke, xvi, 19-31. Lazarus 
is the Greek form of the Hebrew name Eleazar, meaning "whom 
God aids." 

26. Johnston. This was General Joseph E. Johnston, who with 
inadequate and poorly equipped forces conducted a masterly retreat 
across Georgia before General Sherman's army. 

30. Fight. Perhaps the battle of Atlanta, July, 1864. 

32. King. Referring to King Arthur, a legendary British king. 
What do you know of him? 

33. Golden Ring. The Round Table. 

36. The best. That is, "the best of all my knights." 

THO UGHT Q UESTIONS A ND LITERA RY ANAL YSIS: 

(i) What virtue does this poem celebrate? (2) Is there any- 
thing remarkable in the courage of one so young as "Little Giffen"? 
(3) Tell the story of the boy's life, filling in such details as you think 
appropriate. (4) Explain and analyze the force of the striking 
phrase in the first line. (5) Why do the surgeons in the hospital so 
readily give the wounded soldier up? (6) Describe his condition. 
(7) Does the boy whine and shed tears during his sufferings? (See 
line 28.) (8) Explain the allusion in line 12. (9) What war is 
referred to in line 13? (10) How long does it take him to recover 
from his wounds and illness? (11) Can you think of any battle 
fought in Tennessee in which he may have been wounded? (Pro- 
fessor Painter suggests Murfreesboro, Dec. 31, 1862, to Jan. 2, 1863.) 

(12) What do we learn in the fourth stanza of the boy's education? 

(13) To whom does he write? What fine element in his character is 
shown by this? What pathetic situation in his far-away Tennessee 
home is suggested? (14) What does the captain's answer tell us of 
Giffen's comrades? (15) What is Giffen's reputation in that corn- 
pany? In how many battles has he fought? (16) Explain what is 
meant by "Johnston pressed at the front." (17) What effect does 
this news have on the boy soldier? (18) Why does he shed a tear 
at parting? Is it true that often a stern man will shed tears when his 
heart is touched by some act of kindness? (19) Why do you think 
the poet would willingly exchange any of King Arthur's knights 
for "Little Giffen "? (20) Is the style of the poem smooth or jerky? 
What is the effect of the broken and incomplete sentences?^ (21) 
Is it verbose or condensed in expression? Notice how much is told 
in a few words. (22) Is the movement rapid or slow? What effect 
on the movement has the omission of verbs and connective words? 
(23) Mark the tone of martial bravery in the verses and how sug- 
gestive they are of the march, the battle, the carnage of war. (24) 
What can you say of the originality of the poem? Have you ever 
read one like it? Read Browning's An Incident of the French Camp. 
(25) The meter of this poem is somewhat irregular, but the typical 



430 Southern Literary Readings 

foot is dactylic, as in line i. Naturally in a measure like this we 
expect a good many irregularities, such as the substitution of one 
type of foot for another, as in the third foot where a trochee is used ; 
catalexis, or truncation of light syllables, especially at the end of 
the lines for the sake of the rime; inversions of the rhythm, as in 
line 10. (26) Point out the fine examples of alliteration in this 
poem. (27) Can you find an example of "perfect rime"; that is, 
a rime where exactly the same consonant and vowel sounds occur, 
though the words are of different meaning? (28) Two stanzas have 
seven lines each. Where is the extra rime placed in these? (29) 
What line in the last stanza echoes one in the first? Does this 
improve the structural unity of the poem? 

The Lily Confidante 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This dainty poem of sentiment appeared in the first volume of 
Timrod's poems, published in i860. None but a poet of the most 
delicate imagination could have conceived this fanciful conversation 
between the lover and the lily. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Classify the poem, saying whether it is lyric, epic, or dramatic. 
(2) Divide it into its two perfectly balanced parts. (3) Does the 
lover talk as though he were giving away a great secret? Deter- 
mine the best way to read his speech. (4) What two objects 
does he confide in? Why are these appropriate? (5) Why is the 
flute called wordless? (6) What makes the lover hesitate when he 
comes to repeat the girl's name? Note that since no name is given, 
any may be supplied.* (7) How does the poet make a unified impres- 
sion in his description of the maiden? (8) Do you think the lily 
gives the lover good advice? Quote some of the best lines from the 
lily's speech. (9) The rhythm of this poem is trochaic. Deter- 
mine the number of stresses or feet in each line, and compare the 
stanzaic form and the rhythm with those of the Ode on page 154. 
Note particularly the difference in the quality of the verse on account 
of the difference in rhythm. 

Storm and Calm 
INTRODUCTORY: 

Storm and Calm was included in the "Additional Poems" of the 
edition of Timrod's Poems published in 1873. It probably first 
appeared in some one of the newspapers with which Timrod was 
connected. It is a fine, vigorous poem for young readers to study. 
Nothing could better illustrate the doctrine of struggle against 
adversity, and the mystery of suffering out of which comes great 
character than Timrod's own checkered life. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. South. The south wind, which with its soft, warm zephyrs 
is supposed to bring the balmy days of spring. 



The Notes 4JI 

9. North. The north wind, whose fierce wintry blasts bring 
storms and cold. 

15. Berg . . . fioe. The iceberg and the flat mass of floating 
polar ice. Note the imaginative quality of this line. 

18. Fiend. Evil spirit, devil. Shrouds is another word for 
sails. Why is it effective here? 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Point out the two contrasting sections of the poem, and give 
the main thought in each. (2) Which part receives more emphasis? 
Why? The main theme is cast in the form of an apostrophe to the 
fierce spirit of the north wind. With this thought in mind, we 
might analyze the poem as consisting of an introductory thought of 
calm, typified in the gentle south wind; the body of the poem, 
a cry to the fierce spirit of the north wind, in which is set forth the 
doctrine of struggle and suffering as the source of strong human 
character; and a brief reversion to the introductory thought in the 
two concluding lines. (3) Now study each stanza in detail, 
marking the emphatic words and strongest and most suggestive 
lines. (4) By what means does the poet suggest the soft, luxurious 
tone of the first division? (5) Explain fully the thought in stanza 
2. (6) Note the change of tone in the opening line of stanza 3. 
What is the effect of the change? (7) From this point on to the 
end of the poem count the lines that open with a strong imperative 
word. This requires an inversion of the rhythm, and great emphasis 
is thus gained, (8) Explain the figurative expression in lines 1 1 
and 12. (9) What is the force of Arctic in line 17? How long is the 
arctic night? (10) Point out some of the facts of Timrod's life that 
seem to verify the teaching of this poem. (11) The metrical form 
of these verses is simple but very effective. The rhythm is iambic, 
but there are numerous inversions in the first foot to throw 
strong emphasis on the opening syllable, which is usually a mono- 
syllabic word in the imperative mood. Point out these inversions. 
(12) What is the effect of the triplet rime in the last stanza? (13) 
Can you point out two slightly false rimes? 

Carolina 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem was composed in 1861 and published widely in the 
Southern newspapers in the early years of the Civil War. Among 
the martial songs of our Southern literature there is none that sur- 
passes Carolina in depth of patriotic sentiment and fineness of 
artistic quality. The poem celebrates the spirit of Timrod's native 
state, and the poet's friend Paul Hamilton Hayne has said that the 
"lines are destined perhaps to outlive the vitality of the state 
whose antique fame they celebrate." 

EXPLANATORY: 

I, Despot. The Federal soldier. Compare Huns, line 45. 
2j. Eutaw's battle-bed. In the Revolutionary battle fought at 
Eutaw Springs in 1781, the Continentals under General Greene 



432 Southern Literary Readings 

defeated the British under General Stewart. Name several other 
Revolutionary battles fought in South Carolina. 

31. Rutledge. . . Laurens. John Rutledge, born in Charleston 
in 1739, was elected President of South Carolina in 1776, and 
Governor in 1779. He was one of the most famous of Southern 
statesmen. Colonel John Laurens, a youthful and gallant Caro- 
linian, was killed at the head of his regiment in a battle at 
Combahee, South Carolina, in 1782. 

34. Marion's bugle-blast. The famous partisan leader Francis 
Marion, known as the "Swamp Fox," was in the battle of Eutaw 
Springs, in 1781. See Simms's poem, p. 25. 

45. Huns. The Huns were the fiercest of the ruthless barbarian 
tribes who swept down on Rome from the fastnesses of northern 
Germany. Here the allusion is to the Federal soldiers. 

46. Festal guns. Guns fired in joyous or festive salutation. 

50. Sachem's Head to Sumter's wall. Sachem's Head is probably 
another name for Caesar's Head, a peak in the Blue Ridge range 
in the extreme northwestern part of South Carolina. Fort Sumter 
is the famous naval fort in Charleston Harbor in the southeastern 
portion of the state. 

79. Armorial trees. The coat of arms of South Carolina bears a 
palm tree. 

81. Gauntlet. A leathern glove covered with steel plates as a 
part of the armor covering the hand; to throw down the gauntlet is 
a challenge to battle. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What is the purpose of such a lyric as this? (2) In what form 
is the poem cast? (In answering this question, note the continual 
use of the nominative of address, "Carolina," throughout the poem.) 
(3) The poem may be divided into two movements with a conclusion. 
The first three stanzas set forth the appeal; the fourth, fifth, and 
sixth indicate the answer that the people of the state will make to 
this appeal, and the seventh stanza prophesies or suggests the 
complete triumph of the cause for which the poet pleads. Taking 
this analysis as suggestive, give proper topics for each of the seven 
stanzas. (4) Why does the poet begin with a description of Carolina 
in the hands of her enemies? (5) What does the poet mean by 
"lances of the palm," and "a spot ... on thy garment's 
rim"? (6) Interpret line 18. (7) What sentiment is set forth in 
the third stanza? Had Carolina taken a worthy part in Revolu- 
tionary history? Give some of the facts. (8) Why does the poet 
begin in stanza 4 with the murmur of the waves and the swell 
of the ocean? (9) Stanza 5 shows the ready answer of the people 
to the call to arms. Explain the figurative language in lines 57-59. 
(10) In stanza 6 the poet suggests that Carolina may be crushed 
but never conquered. Explain the thought of lines 65-72 concern- 
ing the women and children of the state. (11) The bold and 
vigorous conclusion indicates that no power shall be able to quell 
the indomitable will of the sons of Carolina. The outcome of the 
war literally disproved this prophecy, but the spirit of the poem 



The Notes 433 

still strongly stirs our souls. Read the poem through again with 
this thought in mind. (12) Study now the form of the verse. 
Notice the three triplets of four-stress lines in iambic meter, with 
the one- word refrain of two trochaic feet repeated after each triplet. 
Perhaps Timrod received a suggestion from Tennyson's The Ballad 
of Oriana, the first stanza of which reads: 

"My heart is wasted with my woe, 

Oriana. 
There is no rest for me below, 

Oriana. 
When the long dun wolds are ribb'd with snow, 
And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow, 

Oriana, 
Alone I wander to and fro, 

Oriana." 

Timrod's arrangement seems equally artistic and musical. In fact, 
there is not a false rime or halting line in the whole poem. Though 
simple and chaste in language, the lines are full of the fire and intense 
passion of patriotism. 

Ode 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This Ode was sung in Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, in 1867, 
on the occasion of the memorial service held on the day set apart 
for decorating the graves of the Confederate dead. It is one of the 
last productions of Timrod, and may in a sense be called his swan 
song. In its classic restraint and finished beauty it may well be 
considered his finest poem. It is called, simply, Ode, because of its 
elevated quality and its seriousness of tone; but in reality it is a 
song-lyric of the elegiac or commemorative type. The English poet 
William Collins wrote a poem very similar in form and theme, which 
he called Ode Written in the Beginning of the Year 1746, commemo- 
rating the British soldiers who fell in the War of the Austrian 
Succession. Timrod has often been compared with Collins, in his 
life and poetic temperament as well as in individual poems, so it 
seems desirable to reproduce here Collins 's Ode, that the two poems 
may be more closely compared. 

ODE 
Written in the Beginning of the Year 1746 

"How sleep the brave who sink to rest 
By all their country's wishes blest! 
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold. 
Returns to deck their hallowed mould. 
She there shall dress a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. 

"By fairy hands their knell is rung, 
By forms unseen their dirge is sung; 
There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey. 
To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 
And Freedom shall awhile repair, 
To dwell a weeping hermit there 1" 

EXPLANATORY: 

2. Fallen cause. The cause of State Sovereignty, or the right 
of the Southern States to secede and form a Confederacy. See the 
date of the poem, and give the date of the close of the war. 

28 



434 Southern Literary Readings 

3. Marble column. A bronze figure of a color-bearer upon a 
granite base has since been erected as a soldiers' monument in 
Magnolia Cemetery. 

5. In seeds of laurel. The laurel or bay has been from ancient 
times a symbol of honor. The poet here conceives that the honor 
due to the Southern soldiers is yet only in the seed, but in imagina- 
tion he sees the full-blown blossoms, even while the seeds are still 
in the earth. 

9. Behalf. A poetical condensation for "in behalf of." 
10. Storied. Containing or suggestive of the stories of valor. 
Compare Gray's use of the word in his famous Elegy, where storied 
means pictured images or inscriptions: 

"Can storied urn or animated bust 
Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?" 

13. Shades. Spirits. 

15. Cannon-moulded pile. A lofty commemorative monument 
made or molded from the brass cannon used in the wars. 

16. Bay. Charleston Bay. Locate it on your map. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What concrete object is given strong emphasis in line i ? This 
may be called the initial impulse or occasion of the emotion of 
sorrowful reverence for the dead heroes. (2) Give a phrase for the 
principal thought in each of the five stanzas. Notice that stanzas I 
and 2 belong to the first thought movement, while 3 and 4 are 
the answering thought, and in stanza 5, the most beautiful of all, 
the two thought movements are united into a grand climax. 
(3) What figure is suggested by the word craves ? (4) Can you think 
of a full-blown blossom in a seed that is yet in the earth? Can you 
think of a shaft in thfe stone "waiting for its birth"? This is an 
extremely imaginative stanza. (5) What does the poet mean by 
"blossom of your fame"? (6) Has the prophecy of stanza 2 been 
realized? (7) Explain "your sisters." (8) Interpret fully the 
thought in stanza 4. (9) Exactly what do the words valor and 
beauty mean? Notice the fine effect of the two adjectives used with 
these words. (10) Study closely the sad, solemn beauty of the 
picture in stanza 4. (11) The stanzaic structure is extremely 
simple and natural, but this very simplicity and naturalness adds 
to the subdued tone and chaste imagery of the whole lyric. Deter- 
miae the rhythm and the number of stresses in the lines, and read 
the poem slowly and quietly, to bring out fully its tonal quality. 
(12) Memorize the last stanza. (13) In a brief composition make 
a comparison of Collins's Ode (see the introductory note above) 
with Timrod's. 

The Death of Stonewall Jackson 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This selection comprises the one hundred thirty-first and part 
of the one hundred thirty-second chapter of Cooke's most successful 
novel, Surry of Eagle's- Nest, published in 1866 and since reprinted 
many times. Though the story is purely imaginary, the author 



The Notes 4J5 

has put much of his own actual experience and much real history 
into his narrative. The selection given here is based on fact in 
almost every detail. The student should read Chapters XXXIV 
to XL of Cooke's Life of Thomas Jonathan Jackson for the fuller 
historical account of the battle of Chancellorsville and the fatal 
accident which deprived the South of one of her greatest soldiers. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. My memoirs. Colonel Surry, "having returned to 'Eagle's- 
Nest' and hung up a dingy gray uniform and a battered old saber 
for the inspection of his descendants," is supposed to be writing his 
memoirs, recounting his experiences as a staff officer under General 
Stuart during the war. Cooke was himself a member of Stuart's 
staff. 

II. The hero of a hundred battles. General Thomas Jonathan 
Jackson, son of a West Virginia farmer, was born January 21, 1824. 
After graduating at West Point he served in the Mexican War. 
He resigned from the army in 1852 to fill the chair of physics and 
artillery tactics in the Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Vir- 
ginia. At the beginning of the war he joined the Confederate 
Army, and as a brigadier-general made a reputation at the first 
battle of Manassas or Bull Run, the sobriquet "Stonewall" being 
always afterward associated with his name. Promoted to major- 
general, he was the hero of many engagements in the Shenandoah 
Valley, with the Federal generals Shields and Banks ; he participated 
actively in the Peninsular Campaign, defeated Banks at Cedar 
Mountain, captured Harpers Ferry, took part in the bloody battles 
of Antietam and Fredericksburg; was made lieutenant-general. 
Then came the tragedy at Chancellorsville, following the successful 
attempt of Jackson to cut off Hooker's right from his main force. 

15. Last scene of all. Quoted from Shakspere's As You Like It, 
Act II, Sc. vii. 

22. General Fitz Lee. General Fitzhugh Lee, nephew of Gen- 
eral R. E. Lee, a brave soldier and a wise counselor, died in 1905. 

37. Rodes's, Colston's, and A. P. HilVs divisions. Robert 
Emmett Rodes and Raleigh Edward Colston were both graduates 
of the Virginia Military Institute. Each joined the Confederate 
Army and rose to the rank of brigadier-general. A. P. Hill, a Vir- 
ginian closely associated with Jackson, was a major-general at this 
time. He rose to the rank of lieutenant-general and was killed before 
Petersburg in 1865. The subordinate officers mentioned in the 
narrative are all historic. 

60. Hooker. The Federal general, "Fighting Joe" Hooker, 
commander of the army of invasion, was severely defeated at the 
battle of Chancellorsville, and was soon relieved of the command 
of the Army of the Potomac. 

93. Sombre and lugubrious Wilderness. Dark and funereal 
forest. The undergrowth was so thick round about Chancellors- 
ville that the country was called the Wilderness. Cooke is fond of 
using the word lugubrious. Note where it occurs again. 

251. General Pender. He was a North Carolinian and was 



43^ Southern Literary Readings 

educated at West Point. He resigned from the United States Army 
and joined the Confederate Army in 1861, rose to the rank of major- 
general, was wounded at the battle of Gettysburg, and died a few 
days afterward. 

292. The man of Manassas and Port Republic. Manassas is 
a small town in Virginia about thirty miles southwest of Washing- 
ton, D. C, where the Confederates repelled the first advance on 
Richmond in 1861, and where Jackson was given the sobriquet 
"Stonewall." At Port Republic, a place on the Shenandoah River, 
ninety miles northwest of Richmond, Jackson defeated the Federals 
under General Shields. 

320. Stuart. Lieutenant-general J. E. B. Stuart, the intrepid 
cavalry leader in General Lee's army, was only twenty-seven years 
old when he left the United States Army and joined the Confederacy. 
He was bold and daring, but possessed of fine military judgment, 
and was remarkably successful in his forays. Like Jackson and 
Lee, he was a pure-minded Christian, carrying his mother's Bible 
with him always, and never allowing profanity or excessive drinking 
among his men. He was put in command of Jackson's corps 
after Jackson and General A. P. Hill were wounded, and it was Stuart 
who led the fighting when Hooker's army was dislodged. 

434. Lexington. General Jackson was buried at Lexington, 
Virginia, the scene of his labors in the Virginia Military Institute. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) This narrative selection should be studied as a succession of 
incidents or movements leading to a climax. The death of Jackson 
is made a sort of after-catastrophe in the whole novel, but here the 
selection must be studied as a complete composition within itself. 
Make an outline of th^ selection, filling in the details if time permits. 
(2) Point out phrases which help to make a solemn or lugubrious 
background for the tragedy which is to follow. Note particularly 
the "pallid moon," the cry of the whippoorwills, the dark Wilder- 
ness, all of which are repeated in some form on page 166. (3) 
Describe in your own words just how the fatal accident occurred. 
(4) What is the effect of introducing the strange horseman (lines 
154-155)? Do you think this horseman was a Confederate or a 
Federal? Why? (5) What is the reason for introducing the 
capture of the two Federal soldiers at this point? The incident 
is historic. (6) Why did the friends of Jackson wish to conceal 
theidentity of the wounded general? (7) Do you get a vivid picture 
of Jackson as he moves painfully to the rear? Give some of the 
most striking details. (8) Describe Jackson's death, and inter- 
pret his last words. (9) Give your estimate of his character. 
(10) Read in connection with this selection Margaret Junkin 
Preston's poem The Shade of the Trees, p. 188. 

Lyric of Action 
INTRODUCTORY: 

In his History of Southern Literature Professor Carl Holliday says 
of this poem: "His Lyric of Action should delight every admirer of 



The Notes 437 

sturdy manhood. Persevering vigor sounds through every line of 
it, and coming as it does from a man reduced from great wealth 
to great poverty and exiled from refined, congenial society to a 
silent wilderness, the poem should stand as one of the most remark- 
able exhortations in American literature." 

EXPLANATORY: 

21. The seraph, etc. Uriel (pronounced a'ri-el), signifying in 
Hebrew "the light of God." This angel was represented by Milton 
in Paradise Lost (Book III, line 648ff) as the regent of the sun. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What kind of poem is this? (2) Is the hortative style char- 
acteristic of any other selections from Hayne here given? (3) Is 
exhortation or preaching good subject-matter for poetry? (4) How 
does the poet express the hopes and aspirations of youth? (5) What 
influence does he appeal to as still potent to give one renewed 
courage? (6) Interpret lines 8-1 1. (7) Point out a poetic word 
form in the second stanza. (8) What state of mind is represented 
in the exclamation "Too late"? (9) How does the last stanza 
unify and apply the theme of the whole poem? Do you feel that 
the repetition of lines from stanza i gives a tone of finality to the 
conclusion of the poem? (10) Make a close comparison of this 
Lyric of Action with Longfellow's Psalm of Life, and note the simi- 
larity of the two poems in thought and tone. 

Aethra 

INTRODUCTORY: 

Aethra illustrates Hayne's power to tell a legendary story tersely, 
dramatically, and in beautiful blank verse. In fact, it seems to the 
present editor that this poem in its classical finish and restraint, 
in its clearness, forcefulness, and beauty of style, surpasses all the 
other narrative poetry produced by its author. The legend is, so 
far as we know, original with Hayne. 

EXPLANATORY: 

Aethra. Though Hayne wrote the word thus, both meter and 
etymology show that it would be more correct to spell it ^thra, and 
pronounce it in two syllables, e'thra. The meaning of the Greek 
word cBthra is " a clear, bright sky; fair weather. " In Greek mythol- 
ogy Mtlwa, was the mother of the great Attic hero Theseus. 

5. Philantus. The name is formed from the Greek phileo, 
love, and is used here to typify the hero as one who loved his wife. 

31. Tarentum. The modern Taranto in southern Italy was 
anciently called "Tarenturn," and was supposed to have been 
founded by a body of Spartan immigrants about 708 B.C. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What type of poem is this? (2) What is the verse form? 
(3) Tell the story in your own words. (4) What lines are purely 
introductory? (5) By whom and to whom is the story supposed to 
be related? (6) Look up the etymology of cordial in line 4, and 



438 Southern Literary Readings 

thus determine why the word is used here. (7) Give the date of 
the story. (8) Under what circumstances did the ancient Greeks 
consult the oracles? (9) Give the principal traits of character of 
the hero and heroine of this legend. 

Sonnets 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The sonnet is a poem consisting of fourteen lines of iambic five- 
stress verse, the rimes being arranged according to a definite, yet 
somewhat widely varying, scheme. This verse form was introduced 
from the Italian by Sir Thomas Wyatt in the sixteenth century, 
and under the improved forms practiced by his friend and co-author, 
Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, the sonnet became extremely 
popular toward the end of the century. When the original Italian 
models are more or less closely followed, we have what is called the 
regular or Italian sonnet. This consists of an octave, or eight lines, 
usually made up of two quatrains or four-line groups on two rime 
sounds, namely ahha abba, and a sestet or six lines, usually arranged 
in two tercets, or three-line groups, on two or three rimes variously 
interlaced, as cde cde, cdc dcd, etc. Occasionally a third and even a 
fourth rime is introduced in the octave, and this leads to the Eng- 
lish or irregular sonnet, sometimes called also the Shaksperean 
sonnet, because Shakspere practiced this form exclusively. It 
consists of three quatrains with a final couplet, the rime scheme 
usually running abab, cdcd, efef, gg. Hayne rarely practiced this 
form. The sonnet entitled My Study in the group here chosen is 
composed of three quatrains, but it does not conclude with the 
couplet as does the irregular or Shaksperean sonnet. 

Great Poets and Small 
EXPLANATORY: 

6. Empyreal. Pertaining to the empyrean. _ In the ancient 
conception of the universe the empyrean was the highest heaven, or 
region of pure fire. 

II. Russet linnet. A small European song bird of reddish or 
yellowish brown coloration. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What question is asked in the first quatrain? (2) How is it 
echoed in the second quatrain? (3) Explain exactly what is meant 
by "anointed pinion of song's radiant king." (4) How is the 
thought of the octave applied in the sestet? (5) What conclusion, 
then, does the poet reach? (6) What two birds does he select to 
typify poets of moderate ability? (7) What two does he select to 
denote poets of supreme gifts? (8) Does the skylark suggest any 
particular poet to you? Hayne was a great admirer of Percy 
Bysshe Shelley and addressed one of his best sonnets to that 
poet. Read Shelley's Ode to the Skylark. (9) What rime in the 
octave is carried over to the sestet? This carrying over of a rime 
from the octave to the sestet is not allowable in the strictest 
Italian models. 



The Notes 4jg 

Poets 
EXPLANATORY: 

g. Parnassus. A mountain in Greece sacred to Apollo and the 
Muses; hence, the domain of poetry. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) This sonnet has been placed after the preceding one as illus- 
trative of the poet's ability to treat the same theme from two distinct 
points of view. Contrast and compare these two points of view. 
(2) What three types or kinds of poets does the author speak of in 
this sonnet? (3) How is the thought developed through the octave? 
(4) The first tercet in the second part of the sonnet treats of what 
group of poets? (5) What is the final thought or application? It 
is practically the same as that reached in the preceding sonnet. 
What two examples of assonance are noticeable between the 
octave and the sestet? This is considered a flaw by the more 
fastidious practitioners of the strict Italian sonnet, the basis of 
the criticism being that the two systems should be kept absolutely 
distinct from each other, both in thought and in structure. To the 
ordinary English ear, however, this is no blemish. 

My Study 
EXPLANATORY: 

8. Tendance. The act of holding in the attention, attendance; 
an archaic or poetic form. 

12. Mammon. Of Mammon, the ancient Syrian god of riches. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Why does the poet call his study his "world"? (2) What 
does he mean by owning a "princely service"? Contrast these 
imaginary luxuries with the real conditions of his life. (3) How does 
the poet express his freedom from the thraldom of modern com- 
mercialism? (4) Point out several words which help to give a 
romantic or imaginative touch to the thought and feeling of the 
poem. (See the notes.) (5) Find one faulty rime. 

To Henry W. Longfellow 
EXPLANATORY: 

2. Lam el-crown. Laurel is emblematical of poetical honors. 
4. Prescient. Foreknowing, suggesting here foreknowledge of 
death. 

II. Immaculate. Without spot or blemish, pure. The "new 
note" referred to is doubtless that of William Cullen Bryant, who 
died June, 1 2, 1878. Longfellow was then over seventy-one years 
old. He lived to be seventy-five. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) For what does the poet express his unbounded admiration? 
(2) What figure of speech does he use to convey this idea? (3) 
What is the exact meaning of "prescient night"? (4) In line 6 
what attitude does Hayne take toward Longfellow? What was 



440 Southern Literary Readings 

the difference in the ages of the two poets? (5) What two phases 
of the thought of the sonnet are set forth in the first eight lines? 
(6) How many lines are there in the first phase, and how many in 
the second? Is this the usual division of the octave? This is not 
a serious flaw in the structure, for the form or technique must 
always give way to the logical divisions of the thought when there 
is a conflict. (7) What question is propounded in the first tercet? 
(8) What wish is expressed in the second? (9) What image is in 
the poet's mind when he speaks of "the altar," "golden dreams 
ascending," "thoughts of fire"? (10) This sonnet, with the single 
minor exception of the overlapping of the thought between the first 
and second quatrains, is practically a perfect example of the Italian 
or regular form, the rime scheme being abba abba, cde cde. There is 
one slight blemish in the rime, grown being merely an eye rime 
and not making real concord of sound with renown, etc. If you 
have access to the complete edition of Hayne's poems, read the 
sonnet To Longfellow {On Hearing He Was III) and the double sonnet 
Longfellow Dead. 

The Mocking-bird amid Yellow Jasmine 
EXPLANATORY: 

3. Queen of Fairies* tiring hour. Probably the poet had in mind 
Titania, queen of the fairies in Shakspere's Midsummer Night's Dream. 
Her tiring hour, or attiring hour, is the hour at which she makes 
her dainty toilet. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) No title was given by the author for this sonnet. Can you 
think of a better one tjian that supplied here? (2) What is the 
subject or picture presented in the first quatrain? (3) Of the 
second? (4) Of what three elements is the complete picture, as 
set forth in the octave, made up? (5) What transforming element 
is introduced in the first tercet? (6) What climax is reached in 
the second tercet as a result of this? (7) How does the poet strive to 
express in the last line the whole beauty and passion of the poem? 
Explain the figure of speech and give your opinion of it. (8) Write 
out the rime scheme of the sonnet. (9) In order to bring out the 
rime clearly, what word in line 4 would have to be accented abnor- 
mally — that is, on a syllable which would not ordinarily be accented? 
This is called wrenched accent. 

Maryland! My Maryland! 

INTRODUCTORY: 

Oliver Wendell Holmes once said that he was the more anxious 
to visit Baltimore because that city had produced the three best 
things of their kind: The Raven, The Star-spangled Banner, and 
Maryland! My Maryland! The last-named poem was written on 
April 23, 1861, while Randall was professor of English at Poydras 
College, Pointe Coupee, Louisiana. It was published three days 
later in the New Orleans Delta, and was widely copied in the news- 
papers throughout the South. To appreciate the spirit of the poem, 



The Notes 441 

the student should try to recall the situation and the feeling that was 
everywhere present in the hearts of Southerners as they contem- 
plated the progress of the Federal Army southward. Such clashes 
between citizens and soldiers as that which occurred on the streets 
of Baltimore, April 19, 1861, were inevitable. But in thus recalling, 
as we read and admire the fiery and impassioned war songs, the 
spirit of resistance as it was expressed in the South, we should find 
no reason for loving our united country any the less ; rather should 
we love it the more because of the complete healing of wounds and 
the complete reconciliation after the bitter quarrel of the Civil War 
period. As one of our Georgia poets, Frank L. Stanton, expresses it: 

After all, 
One country, brethren! We must rise or fall 
With the Supreme Republic. We must be 
The makers of her immortality; 

Her freedom, fame. 

Her glory, or her shame — 
Liegemen to God and fathers of the free! 

After all, 
Hark! from the heights the clear, strong, clarion call 
And the command imperious: "Stand forth. 
Sons of the South and brothers of the North ! 

Stand forth and be 

As one on soil and sea — 
Your country's honor more than empire's worth! " 

After all, 
'Tis Freedom wears the loveliest coronal; 
Her brow is to the morning; in the sod 
She breathes the breath of patriots ; every clod 

Answers her call 

And rises like a wall 
Against the foes of liberty and God! 

For a brief note on the adaptation of Maryland! My Maryland! 
to music, see the sketch of Randall, and for a fuller account see the 
history of the poem as given by Matthew P. Andrews in his intro- 
duction to the 1910 edition of Randall's poems. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I . Despot's heel. Compare a similar use of the word in the first 
line of Timrod's poem Carolina. 

5. Patriotic gore. On April 19, 1861, in a clash between the 
citizens of Baltimore and the soldiers of the Sixth Massachusetts 
Regiment, four soldiers and twelve private citizens were killed and 
many more wounded. One of Randall's college mates was among 
the dead. 

7. Battle queen of yore. Evidently referring to the resistance 
made by Baltimore against the English fleet under Admiral Cockburn 
in the War of 18 12. In this connection see Key's Star-spangled 
Banner. 

9. Exiled son. Throughout his life Randall looked upon himself 
as an exile and a wanderer from his native state. 

21. Carroll's sacred trust. Charles Carroll, a noted statesman of 
Revolutionary times, an active member of the Maryland Convention 
of June 21, 1776, which declared America ought to be free and 



442 Southern Literary Readings 

independent, and of the Continental Congress which declared our 
independence. This last is probably the trust referred to, though 
Carroll represented his state in many positions of trust. 

22. Howard's warlike thrust. Colonel John E. Howard won fame 
at the battle of Cowpens by ordering his men to charge with the 
bayonet. He was afterward Governor of Maryland. 

29. Ringgold. Major Samuel Ringgold was an artillery com- 
mander in the Mexican War. He was personally directing the fire 
of his squad in the battle of Palo Alto, 1846, when he was shot 
through the hips. When his friends offered to take him to the rear 
for medical attention, he insisted that they leave him alone, as they 
were needed at the front. 

30. Watson. Colonel William H. Watson was killed in Mexico 
at the head of his regiment in the battle of Monterey, September 
24, 1846. 

31. Lowe . . . May. Governor Lowe and Henry May were 
strong defenders of states' rights and vigorous opposers of the 
Federal war measures imposed upon Maryland in 1861. 

39 . And chaunt thy dauntless slogan song. This line was originally 
written, "And add a new Key to thy song"; the pun in allusion to 
Francis Scott Key, author of the Star-spangled Banner, was criticized 
by Oliver Wendell Holmes and others, and Randall changed the line 
to read as in the text. The improvement is noteworthy. 

46. Sic semper tyrannis. " Thus always with tyrants," a Latin 
phrase on the coat of arms of Virginia. 

62. Bowl. Though the meaning is not easily apparent, the word 
probably refers to a method of inquisitorial torture in which the 
victim was placed in a wooden vessel filled with spikes. The exi- 
gency of rime accounts fpr the use of this particular word. 

67. Old Line's bugle, fife, and drum. A reference to the Con- 
tinental or Revolutionary soldiers. See Willard's famous painting, 
"The Spirit of '76." 

70. Northern scum. This harsh expression should be inter- 
preted figuratively. Mr. Andrews, apparently quoting Randall, 
says, "To the poet, Maryland was 'a rock able to withstand a mighty 
sea of invasion and repel it in foam or scum at its base.'" Some 
modern editors omit this stanza, but with injustice to the poet 
and to the spirit of the lyric. Hard words were the natural result 
of the fierce passions that moved men's hearts in those terrible days. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Study the gradual rise of emotion, and try to read the poem 
in inil realization of the poet's patriotic fervor. (2) In what form 
does the poet conceive of his native state throughout the poem? 
(3) Give the occasion and the history of the poem. (4) Why did 
Randall call himself an exile? (5) Explain the historical allusions in 
stanzas 3 and 4. (6) What is meant by "Virginia should not call 
in vain"? (7) Discuss the imaginative touches in the final stanza. 
(8) Explain the following words from the poem: panoplied, dal- 
liance, slogan, minions. Vandal. (9) Compare this poem with 
Timrod's Carolina^ and try to determine from a purely literary 



The Notes 443 

point of view which is the better poem. In this exercise try not to 
take into account the added force and popular appeal which the 
music has given to Randall's poem, (10) Each stanza is built on 
a single riming sound with the refrain interspersed. Test the rime 
scheme to see if it is consistently followed. (11) The meter is 
iambic tetrameter, or four-stress verse. Scan a stanza. Notice 
that the refrain necessarily omits the initial light syllable. 

Pelham 
INTRODUCTORY: 

Colonel John Pelham, one of six brothers who enlisted in the Con- 
federate Army, was born in Calhoun County, Alabama, September 
7, 1838. He left West Point just before his graduation, in order to 
join the Confederate forces, and he was immediately put in command 
of a detachment of artillery. It has been said that he was the most 
capable and brilliant commander of artillery in the South. He was 
in many hard-fought engagements. At Fredericksburg his work 
was so remarkable that he was referred to by General Lee in 
his report of the battle as "the gallant Pelham," by which title 
he has since been known. He was killed at Kelly's Ford on the 
Rappahannock, March 17, 1863. His body was carried to 
Alabama, where it was seen by Randall, and buried in the 
beautiful little town of Jacksonville in the mountains of northern 
Alabama. 

EXPLANATORY: 

8. Marcellus. A Roman general and consul, a spirited and 
noble young patriot mentioned by Vergil in the ^neid. Book VI. 

28. Divine surprise. That is, his surprise at the fame and glory 
which he received in heaven. Compare Milton's famous passage 
on fame in Lycidas, ending 

"Of so much fame in heav'ti expect thy meed." 

35. Amaranthine wreath. The amaranth in Greek lore is an 
imaginary plant or flower which never withers or fades. Explain 
the application here. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) This elegy may be said to receive its initial impulse from 
line 25, when the poet gazes upon the dead form of the hero. Taking 
this seventh stanza, then, as the climax, we may analyze the lyric 
as a poetic exposition or description of Pelham's death. In the first 
stanza the time and occasion are dealt with, and then follows a 
comparison of Pelham with Marcellus. A suggestive or poetic 
portrayal of the actual death scene is then given. The last two 
stanzas, treating of the hero's entrance into heaven and his assured 
fame, are added for the comfort of the weeping mother. Follow this 
analysis through the poem. (2) Why is the spring spoken of as 
laughing? (3) Explain "April of historic life," and compare with 
Pelham's actual age and the date of his death. (4) Explain the 
figure of speech in Hne 7. Do you like it? (5) Study carefully 
stanzas 5 and 6 as an imaginative portrayal of Pelham's death. Is 



444 Southern Literary Readings 

the portrayal artistic? (6) Stanza 7 was greatly admired by the 
eminent critic Clarence Stedman. What do you see in the stanza 
to elicit such admiration? (7) Explain the thought of the last 
stanza. (8) The meter is alternate five- and three-stress iambic. 
Scan a stanza or two, and account for the frequent inversions in the 
first foot. 

Gone Forward 
INTRODUCTORY: 

In her journal for the year 1870 Mrs. Preston makes the following 
entry: "November 7th: Wrote a little poem about General Lee 
called Gone Forward. Began it after eleven o'clock, and finished it 
before dinner, 'standing on one foot,' as Horace says. I don't know 
whether it is good or not. Writing it made the cold perspiration 
break out over me, which is a token that I was 'i' the vein.' " After 
the Civil War General Lee had been called to the presidency of 
Washington College, and during the five years of his service there 
Mrs. Preston was thrown into constant association with him; so 
she was well prepared to write in the brief space of an hour or so this 
almost perfect poem on the great man's life and character. In her 
reminiscences of General Lee published in the Century Magazine 
nearly twenty years after his death, Mrs. Preston wrote this excellent 
summary of his character: "As a man, physically, intellectually, 
morally, and socially, we people of the South think his equal has 
never been seen. He was a superb specimen of manly beauty, 
grace, and elegance. His military life gave no stiffness to his 
manner ; there was about him a stately dignity, a calm poise, absolute 
self-possession with entire absence of self-consciousness, and a 
beautiful consideration for all about him which made a combination 
not to be surpassed. His tall erect figure, his fine coloring, his 
sparkling hazel eye, his perfect white teeth (for he never used 
tobacco), his engaging smile, his chivalry of bearing, the rnusical 
sweetness of his perfectly true voice, were attributes never to be 
forgotten by those who had once met him." 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. Let the tent be struck. Colonel William Preston Johnston, 
who witnessed the death scene, said that a Southern poet (referring 
to Mrs. Preston) had celebrated the significant words "Strike the 
tent"; but the last words Lee uttered were," Tell Hill he must come 
up!" General Lee died of heart trouble, October 12, 1870. 

15. Call of duty. General Lee is given credit for the aphorism, 
"Duty is the sublimest word in the English language." 

27. Red-cross knights. The Templars or other medieval knights 
who wore the red cross as their emblem. In Spenser's Faery Queene, 
Book I, the Red-cross knight represents Faith, and this is probably 
the source of the allusion here. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem is an elegy or dirge, taking General Lee's dying 
words as a starting point, but presenting in deep-toned, solemn, 
beautiful lyric music a summary of a noble character. (2) What 



The Notes 44^ 

day is the poet describing in stanza i ? (3) General Lee surrendered 
to General Grant at Appomatox, April 9, 1865. How, then, do you 
explain the first line of stanza 2? (4) Name the qualities of General 
Lee's character mentioned in stanza 2. (5) "All hearts grew sudden 
palsied." Why? (6) What was General Lee's ideal as expressed 
in stanza 3? (7) Why should we not weep for him? (8) What 
kind of soldier is spoken of in stanza 5? (9) How do you interpret 
the beautiful and imaginative image, "Thick-studded with the calm, 
white tents of peace"? (10) Now study the structure of the verse 
which brings out such grand, solemn music. Notice first the rime 
scheme, the feminine or double rimes in lines i and 3, the single 
masculine rime sound in lines 2, 4, and 5, and the final line with no 
rime but with constant repetition of the word "forward" from stanza 
to stanza as a unifying refrain. See if this scheme is consistently 
carried out, naming the riming words in each stanza. (11) The 
meter is straightforward iambic with one extra light syllable at the 
end of the first, third, and sixth lines of each stanza. There is no 
effort at over-ornamentation, excessive alliteration, or rich sound 
effects, but the deep, slow tones are wonderfully well adapted to the 
theme. How should the poem be read? 

The Shade of the Trees 

INTRODUCTORY: 

The editor has been unable to find just when this poem was 
written. No mention is made of it in Mrs. Preston's journal for 
1863. The following entry concerning the news of Jackson's death 
is found, however: ^' May 12th: Tuesday: Last night I sat at 
this desk writing a letter to General Jackson, urging him to come up 
and stay with us, as soon as his wound would permit him to move. I 
went down stairs early this morning, with the letter in my hand, and 
was met by the overwhelming news that Jackson was dead! . . . 
My heart overflows with sorrow. The grief in this community is 
intense; everybody is in tears. What a release from his weary two 
years' warfare! To be released into the blessedness and peace of 
heaven! . . . How fearful the loss to the Confederacy! The 
people made an idol of him, and God has rebuked them. No more 
ready soul has ascended to the throne than was his. Never have I 
known a holier man. Never have I seen a human being so thoroughly 
governed by duty. He lived only to please God; his daily life was 
a daily offering up of himself." Perhaps the thought of writing this 
poem came to Mrs. Preston after she had written the powerful poem 
Gone Forward suggested by the last words of General Lee. The 
poem on Jackson's last words may be found in the volume called 
Cartoons (1875), immediately following that on Lee. 

EXPLANATORY: 

3. Let us . . . trees. These are the very last words spoken 
by General Jackson. See John Esten Cooke's account of the whole 
scene, p. 170. 

19. Assoiled ones. The redeemed, those saved and set free from 
all earthly pollution. Walking in white: See Revelations^ iii. 4, 5. 



44^ Southern Literary Readings 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What is the initial idea of this poem? (2) From this initial 
idea what three divisions of the body of the poem are apparent? 

(3) Do the words or images in stanza 3 make you hear the water 
distinctly? What devices are used to make the suggestion vivid? 

(4) Explain "soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore," (5) What 
picture is conveyed in stanza 5? (6) Why was it best for Jackson 
to pass over the river and rest? Was it best for the Confederacy? 
Be sure of your ground before you answer this last question. (7) 
What rime sound is repeated in each stanza and why? (8) The 
necessity of repeating the exact words of Jackson determines the 
meter and the rhythm of the poem. The rhythm is dactylic with 
the two final syllables omitted throughout for the sake of the rime. 
Count the stresses. 

The Color-bearer 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem is found in Mrs. Preston's first volume of collected short 
poems, Old Songs and New, published in 1870. The volume contains 
poems on Hebrew and Greek story, ballads, sonnets, and other 
verse. The Color-bearer is one of the ballads. It is doubtless one 
of Mrs. Preston's earlier poems, and perhaps was written before the 
war ; but she revised all her pieces when she prepared the manuscript 
for her book in 1870, and in the later conception of the hero of this 
ballad she must have thought of some youthful Southern soldier as 
the color-bearer. 

EXPLANATORY: 

5. Phalanx. The 'old Greek phalanx was the line of heavy 

infantry several ranks deep, which presented an unbroken front to 

the enemy. Here the word is used generically for the line of battle. 

87. The ordered remnant slow retired. That is, the remnant of 

the company retired in slow and orderly fashion. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem divides itself naturally into four divisions: analyze 
it. (2) Why are not the place and time of the battle, the name of 
the company, commander, or soldiers definitely given? (3) How 
is the carnage of the battle pictured in stanza i? Do you get a 
vivid picture in stanza 2 ? Give some of the best images. (4) The 
first two stanzas give a general picture of the battle. What specific 
narrative is begun in stanza 3? Recount the progress of the com- 
pany. (5) What effect does the fall of their colors have on the 
company? What soldier leaps to restore the flag? (6) What 
makes the boy pause so long? (7) Read the two stanzas describing 
the boy's home, mother, and sister. Why are these introduced? 
(8) "The touch dissolved the spell." Explain this line, and connect 
it with a preceding stanza. (9) Explain lines 55, 56. (10) In line 
68 what is meant by "blood-red trail of light"? (11) How are the 
boy's bravery and devotion to his country finally shown? Give 
your estimate of his character. (12) The poem is written in the 



The Notes 447 

simple ballad quatrain of alternate four- and three-stress lines, the 
second and fourth riming. ^ Test this formula by scanning a stanza, 
but do not read the poem in a singsong fashion. 

The Conquered Banner 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The Conquered Banner first appeared on March 21, 1868, in The 
Banner of the South, a journal founded at Augusta, Georgia, shortly- 
after the Civil War. The poem voiced the shattered hopes of loyal 
Southerners everywhere, and at once became and has since remained 
one of the favorites among the short poems by Southern authors. 
It is natural that the poem, coming as it did straight from the heart 
of the soldier-priest so shortly after the defeat and overthrow of the 
Confederacy, should be modulated to a tone of sadness and even 
of hopelessness. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I . That Banner. The Confederate flag, of which there were several 
kinds. The battle flag was a diagonal cross of blue filled with 
thirteen stars, on a red ground. The "Stars and Bars" had as a 
ground three bars — red, white, and red — with a blue square in the 
upper left-hand corner decorated with a circle of seven stars. The 
national flag consisted of the battle-flag design on a field of white 
or of red and white. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What seems to be the theme of the poem? (2) In what 
mood do you judge the author to have been when he wrote it? 
(3) Are thought unity and emotional unity preserved? (4) Is 
there structural unity? Do the slight variations in the forms 
of the stanzas mar the structural unity? (5) How does each 
stanza begin? Does repetition act as a binding device between 
the stanzas? (6) What elements of pathos are found in the poem? 
(7) In what lines are the dead soldiers mentioned? (8) In line 35 
the poet speaks of pardoning the enemy. Who first taught this 
noble sentiment? (9) How has the prophecy in line 40 been fulfilled? 
(10) Do you think we as Americans love our national flag any the 
less because we revere the memory of the "bonny blue flag" of the 
Confederacy? (11) What is the meter of the poem? Scan the first 
and third lines. Notice that the first line is acatalectic; that is, 
it is not cut short but has four full trochaic feet. The third lino 
is catalectic, having the final Hght or unaccented syllable omitted. 
Compare this meter with that of The Sword of Robert Lee, just 
following, and with other trochaic measures in this volume. (12) 
Where do feminine rimes occur? Are these demanded by the tro- 
chaic rhythm? These double rimes add to the musical effect if 
not overdone, while the masculine or single rimes break the monotony 
and afford good opportunities for pauses in the flow of the verse and 
in the thought. (13) The poet sometimes repeats his rimes too 
often. Examine the first stanza and see if you think the rime is 
overdone. Find another stanza where there is inartistic excess of 



44^ Southern Literary Readings 

rime. (14) Where is the answering rime to so in Hne 37? Do you 
think there is a flaw in the structure of this stanza? 

The Sword of Robert Lee 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem, like the preceding and also like many other of Father 
Ryan's productions of this period, first appeared in The Banner of 
the South, being published April 4, 1868. Father Ryan was a great 
admirer of General Lee, placing him first among the heroes of fame, 
and reverencing him as one of the noblest men who had ever lived. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Is the theme expressed fully in the title? Suppose you state 
it somewhat more fully. (2) In what situations does the poet con- 
ceive the sword? (3) Notice how the poem is structurally unified 
by the opening line of each stanza. Why is the line varied slightly? 
(4) How would you read the poem? Compare it with The Con- 
quered Banner for mood and tone. (5) Mark the note of sadness 
in the midst of exulting admiration for the peerless leader. (6) 
In line 5 what is the sword compared with and why? _ What figure 
of speech is this? (7) How is the sword conceived of in lines 8 and 
9? What figure of speech is this, and how does it differ from the 
preceding figure? (8) What is indicated to your mind by "the 
battle's song," line 9? (9) What effect did the sight of the sword 
have on the soldiers (lines 16-18)? (10) In which stanza is the 
climax in thought and emotion reached? (11) Why is the fourth 
stanza more effective than the preceding ones in its musical effects? 
Study the parallelism, repetition, internal rime, alliteration, etc. 
(12) In line 33 what image is suggested? (13) How is the sword 
associated with the fallen soldiers in the last stanza? (14) Study 
out the stanzaic form and see if it is maintained throughout. (15) 
How do the meter, rhythm, and stanza of this poem compare with 
those of The Conquered Banner ? 

Eulogy on Charles Sumner 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This famous speech was delivered in the United States House of 
Representatives, April 28, 1874. Lamar had been selected from the 
Democratic side to second the resolutions offered by Representative 
Hoar of Massachusetts, for the suspension of public business out 
of respect to the memory of Senator Sumner. It was a critical 
moment in the history of the nation when Lamar, a Southerner 
and secessionist of the "fire-eating" type, rose to eulogize Charles 
Sumner, the man who was so bitterly antagonistic to the ideas for 
which the South stood. Ex-Chancellor Mayes says: "The House . . . 
was thronged; on the one side friends, full of misgivings; on the 
other, opponents, _ cold, curious, critical. ... As he proceeded 
with the address, it was evident that something unusual was going 
on. The House became hushed and reverent. The faces of the 
members and of the vast auditory were turned, rapt and •attentive, 
upon the speaker, as he stood, in an attitude of easy grace, in the 



The Notes 44Q 

first aisle beyond the center, on the left of the chamber. The still- 
ness of the House and galleries became oppressive. The Speaker, 
Mr. Blaine, sat motionless, his face turned away, with tears stealing 
down his cheeks. On both sides of the House members wept. 
The scarred veterans of a hundred fields, and the callous actors in 
a hundred debates. Democrats and Republicans alike, melted into 
tears. Said one spectator afterwards: 'Those who listened some- 
times forgot to respect Sumner in respecting Lamar.' When he 
closed, all seemed to hold their breath, as if to prolong a spell; and 
then a spontaneous burst of applause broke out from all the floor 
and all the galleries, coming up heartily and warmly, especially from 
the Republican side." 

The great speech was telegraphed to all parts of the country, and 
Lamar's name was on every tongue. It has been asserted by many 
that sectional animosity received in this speech its deathblow. 
The press everywhere lauded the chaste eloquence, the sincere 
and abiding charity, the exalted spirituality of the utterance. 

EXPLANATORY: 

Charles Sumner. This eminent statesman was born in Massa- 
chusetts in 181 1, educated at Harvard, and sent to the United 
States Senate in 1851. He at once took rank as one of the 
leaders in the movement for the abolition of slavery. On one 
occasion so severe was his arraignment of Senator Butler of South 
Carolina that he was assaulted and painfully injured, on the floor 
of the Senate Chamber by a certain Southern Representative who 
was a relative of Senator Butler's. He was bitterly hated by the 
South for many years, both for his anti-slavery politics before the 
war, and for his insistence that the negroes be given full recognition 
and equal privileges in hotels, theaters, and the like, after the war. 

17. Johnson's felicitous expression. What follows is a transla- . 

tion of a phrase in Dr. Samuel Johnson's Latin epitaph for Oliver 

Goldsmith. The original words are Nullum quod tetigit non ornavit. 

24. Singularly dramatic career. See the note on Sumner above. 

131. Amnesty to the vanquished. Sumner had supported the 
act which granted general amnesty or pardon to all who took 
part in the Civil War except those who by their prominence gained 
recognition as leaders. The officers were pardoned only on special 
application. 

145. A point to him so vital. Even at the time of his death, 
Sumner was pressing through Congress his Civil Rights Bill which 
proposed to place the negro on the level of the white man in respect 
to all civil privileges. 

163. A gracious act. In 1872 Sumner had introduced in Congress 
a bill forbidding the perpetuation by record or inscription, on the 
army register or the regimental colors, of the victories won over 
fellow citizens. He lost some of his popularity among the extremists 
of the North on account of the generous spirit of magnanimity 
manifested toward the feelings of the South in this matter. 

168. Internecine. Characterized by mutual slaughter. Look 
up the etymology and the pronunciation. 

29 



4j0 Southern Literary Readings 

247. Abandon. A French word meaning ease or unconstraint. 
Pronounced a-baN'd6N'. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Ex-Chancellor Mayes in his Life, Times, and Speeches of 
L. Q. C. Lamar, treating of the occasion of this speech, says: "Per- 
haps no one expected aught but a purely perfunctory performance, 
an unwilling tribute to a dead foe exacted by the good breeding of 
civilization." Do you find in the spirit of the speech anything of 
the kind? (2) What is the significant statement in the first para- 
graph? (3) Why does the speaker make only passing reference to 
Sumner's intellectual and cultural attainments? (4) Upon what 
traits does he propose to dwell? Why? ^ (5) In paragraph 2 notice 
how skillfully Lamar summarizes the intellectual attainments of 
Sumner while feigning to say nothing of them. How does he pass 
from the intellectual to the moral phases of Sumner's character? 
(6) What is the first strong characteristic treated of under this 
head? (Third paragraph.) (7) What qualities does the orator 
find combined with this characteristic ?_ (8) In what way did this 
characteristic find concrete expression in Sumner's life? (9) Does 
Lamar give a favorable or an unfavorable picture of slavery as it 
existed in America? (10) What is meant by "the organic law of 
the republic "? (11) How does the last sentence of the fourth para- 
graph lead up to the phase of Sumner's character which is next to 
be treated? (12) Summarize carefully the thought of the fifth 
paragraph. (13) What topic is treated of in the sixth? Have 
Sumner's views on this question been sanctioned by posterity? 
(14) What specific instance of Sumner's magnanimity toward the 
South is pointed out? X^S) With what generous idea does Lamar 
meet this magnanimity? (Paragraph 8.) (16) What do you 
imagine was the effect, on both sides, of Lamar's admission that he 
had often felt the impulse to go to Sumner and express his gratitude? 
Would such an admission disarm a critically disposed person? 
(17) At this point in the tenth paragraph we reach the real message 
that Lamar had to deliver to his countrymen, North and South. 
State this message carefully in your own words. (18) Examine 
the last two magnificent sentences in the eleventh paragraph. 
Notice the balance and the striking antithesis or contrast. 

Song of the Chattahoochee 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem first appeared in Scott's Magazine, Atlanta, Georgia, in 
1877. It is perhaps the most widely known of all Lanier's works; 
and naturally, for it is so simple and beautiful in its conception and 
so musical and artistic in its execution that even the youngest 
readers find pleasure in it. Professor Callaway speaks of this as 
" Lanier's most finished nature poem . . . the most musical of his 
productions." 
EXPLANATORY: 

I, 2. Habersham . . , Hall. Locate these counties in Georgia, 
and trace the entire course of the Chattahoochee. 



The Notes 4^1 

6. Or . . . or. Used for either . . . or, as often in poetry. 
See if you can find in your reading a similar use of nor . . . nor for 
neither . . . nor. 

17. For to. An archaic form, used also in line 43. Can you point 
out instances of the use of this idiom in the King James version of the 
Bible? 

38. Made lures. Offered allurements for the water to stop. 
The idea seems to be that the water pouring over the stones makes 
them more dazzling and attractive. 

43. Fain. Willing, yearning. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Make an outline of the poem by stanzas, using the five 
questions following this one for suggestions. (2) How much of the 
river's course is summarized in stanza i? (3) What objects are 
described in stanza 2 as delaying the water? (4) What objects 
attract the river in stanza 3? (5) What objects offer allurements 
in stanza 4? (6) What moral is drawn in stanza 5? (7) Who 
speaks throughout the poem? Does this give the poet the oppor- 
tunity to imitate the sound of the water in his verse? Why is the 
name of the river not given in the poem? (8) Is there a similarity 
of tone in the first and last stanzas? How does this help to unify 
the whole? (9) The meter is typically four-stress trochaic, but there 
are many variations and irregularities for artistic effect. Scan the 
poem. (10) Professor Kent in his analysis of this poem says: 
"In five stanzas, of ten lines each, alliteration occurs in all save 
twelve lines." Prove this statement by actual count, marking 
the non-alliterative lines. (The lines in which Hall occurs alliterate 
with the preceding lines containing Habersham.) (11) He also says: 
"In eleven of these twelve lines internal rhyme occurs, sometimes 
joining the parts of a line, sometimes uniting successive lines." 
Point out the single line which has n6 internal rime. (12) Mem- 
orize the poem. (13) Compare it with Tennyson's The Brook, 

A Ballad of Trees and the Master 
INTRODUCTORY: 

Lanier wrote this poem at Baltimore in November, 1880, only a 
few months before his death. It is one of the most exquisite nature 
lyrics in our language. For other beautiful passages on trees, see 
the opening lines of Sunrise and The Marshes of Glynn. 

EXPLANATORY: 

2. Forspent. Exhausted, entirely spent; an archaic word. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) To whom does Master refer? (2) What event in Christ's 
life is described? In what garden did it take place? (3) Why was 
He "forspent"? (4) What two trees are mentioned in the first 
stanza? Of what events are they typical or suggestive in Christ's 
life? (5) The use of they in line 5 is an example of pleonasm. Ex- 
plain the figure and show why it is justifiable in poetry. (6) What 



4S2 Southern Literary Readings 

difference in tone is there between the first and the second stanza? 
(7) Why was Christ content when he came out of the garden? (8) 
What does tree mean in line 15? (9) The meter is iambic, but it is 
varied by inversions (trochaic feet), as in lines i, 9, 11; by substi- 
tutions of anap^stic feet, as in lines 5, 6, 8, 14, 16. Try to point 
out these variations. In line "2 there is a syllable omitted in the 
first foot. This omission is similar in effect to a rest in music, as 
Lanier explains in his Science of English Verse. The line should be 
read slowly so as to fill the full time interval. (10) The lines some- 
times have three, sometimes four stresses ; which lines have four and 
which three feet? (11) What rimes are repeated throughout the 
two stanzas? Does such repetition add to the music of the lyric? 
(12) How do the rime words in lines 2 and 10 help to emphasize 
the contrasted moods of the two stanzas? (13) What movement 
do you assign to this lyric? 

My Springs 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This beautiful love poem addressed to the poet's wife was written 
in 1874 while Lanier was living in Baltimore. In a letter to Mrs. 
Lanier, dated March, 1874, the poet says:. "Of course since I 
have written it to print, I cannot make it such as I desire in artistic 
design; for the forms of to-day require a certain trim smugness and 
clean-shaven propriety in the face and dress of a poem, and I must 
win a hearing by conforming in some degree to these tyrannies, with 
a view to overturning them in the future. Written so, it is not nearly 
so beautiful as I would have it, and I therefore have another still 
in my heart, which I will some day write for myself." 

EXPLANATORY: 

3. Lucent. Look up the meaning and etymology of this word. 
16. Very verity. Real or true form. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The poem is a love lyric set in allegory. What are the 
springs ? (2 ) Why are they placed in the ' ' heart of the Hills of Life ' ' ? 
(3) What does the "soul's far Lake of Dreams" signify? (4) 
Explain in what way the springs "mirror all of life and time." (5) 
What abstract quality is represented in stanza 4? Do you conceive 
of this abstract idea in a concrete form? Explain the thought of 
the stanza. (6) What three familiar figures known as the ' ' Christian 
graces" appear in stanzas 5 and 6? See / Corinthians, xiii. 13. 

(7) What particular form of art was Lanier thinking of in stanza 7? 

(8) Recalling the story of Lanier's life, say how you think his wife 
helped him most. (9) Notice that the latter half of the poem is 
more emotional than the first, the poet's love being expressed in a 
sort of climax or crescendo toward the end. (10) Enumerate the 
characteristics of the wife as set forth in the various love lights 
which played in her eyes. (11) Why does the poet use the 
figure of dovecotes with gray doves? (12) Why are Magdalen and 
Ruth singled out as objects of the good wife's love? (13) The last 



The Notes 453 

stanza has been spoken of as one of Lanier's purest gems of poetry 
and one of the finest compUments ever paid by a husband to a 
wife. Memorize this stanza. (14) Analyze the structure of the 
poem, dividing it into two parts and giving appropriate sub- 
divisions. _ (15) Point out the marked parallelism of structure and 
the repetition in stanzas 4 to 8. What advantages are thus 
gained? (16) Study carefully the deep and sincere emotion which 
permeates the whole poem. (17) Read for comparison Washington 
Irving's picture of The Wife in The Sketch-hook. 

Stanzas from "Corn" 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The poem from which these three stanzas are taken appeared in 
Lippincott's Magazine for February, 1875, and was the first of 
Lanier's productions to attract wide public notice. The poem is 
dated Sunnyside, Georgia, August, 1874. Mrs. Lanier says that it 
was the first outcome of her husband's consciously developing art 
life. Of the background of the poem she adds, "His 'fieldward- 
faring eyes took harvest,' 'among the stately corn-ranks,' in a 
portion of middle Georgia sixty miles to the north of Macon. It is 
a high tract of country from which one looks across the lower 
reaches to the distant Blue Ridge Mountains, whose wholesome 
breath, all unobstructed, here blends with the woods-odors of the 
beech, the hickory, and the muscadine." 
EXPLANATORY: 

I. Zigzag-cornered. The old-fashioned rail fence is laid in 
zigzag or worm fashion. 

12. Tilth. Tillage, plowing: an Anglo-Saxon word. 

13. Quintuple. Fivefold. This word is used to sum up the 
five things mentioned as harvests above — namely, dignities ^ benigni- 
ties, insights, graces, majesties. 

19. Type. Typify, be a type of: a noun used as a verb. 

20. Vanward. The forward section, the vanguard. 
23. Increment. Increase, addition. 

29. Four wild elements. This is a reference to the older phi- 
losophy, which held that everything in nature was composed of the 
four elements, water, fire, air, earth. 

40. Writ. An old past tense, now used only in poetry. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Give a topic for each of the three stanzas. (2) Describe in 
your own words the first picture the poet paints. (3) What meta- 
phor is developed in the first stanza? (4) Point out and define the 
military terms used. (5) What is the thought that the poet wishes 
to impress by this figure? (6) In the second stanza the poet stops 
to develop another thought, but he uses the word corn-ranks to 
keep the military figure in mind. Explain just how the poet takes 
harvest. (7) Develop carefully the thought of lines 11, 12, and 13. 

(8) In line 14 the poet returns to his military figure, but centers his 
attention on one single conception. Why is this device effective? 

(9) Explain "waves his blades." (10) Why is the battling hedge 



4S4 Southern Literary Readings 

mentioned again? (ii) Line i8 does not rime with any other line, 
but it has three words riming within itself. Point these out. (^2) 
Lanier now compares the corn-captain to the poet-soul. Notice 
how he first uses a military idea, "sings up cowards"; and then, 
repeating the word soul at the beginning of three different lines, 
he develops three comparisons between the poet-soul and the 
cornstalk: namely, calmness, unselfish grace, and sweetness. (13) 
Explain selfless chivalry, and curves of courtesy. Notice the assonance 
in the last phrase. (14) Paraphrase line 31. (15) Why does the 
poet say the corn stands in its grave? (16) Explain the thought 
in lines 38 and 39. (17) What lesson may be drawn from the last 
line? How can we become our own monument? (18) Study the 
melodious phrasing, the rich rime combinations, the varying rhythms, 
and try to cultivate your ear for a keener appreciation of the musical 
qualities of Lanier's verse. 

Three Letters 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The first of these letters is taken from Lanier's correspondence 
with Paul Hamilton Hayne, which extended over the years from 
1867 to Lanier's death in 1881; the next, taken from the more 
personal letters to Mrs. Lanier, describes the poet's first rehearsal 
as a member of the Peabody Symphony Orchestra, Baltimore; 
the third is one from Lanier to Bayard Taylor, written while the 
former was seeking to improve his health by a winter spent in 
Florida. 

Since personal letters are normally of an easy, natural, and unstud- 
ied character, there is no need for an attempt at literary analysis 
here; but the student sliould note the grace and fluency of style 
and intimacy of tone necessary to produce a pleasing effect in this 
difficult kind of writing. Paul Hamilton Hayne says of the letters 
which Lanier wrote to him: "Their quaintness of thought and 
phraseology seemed at first to indicate affectation — an affectation 
of archaism; but soon I learned to understand that this style was 
as natural to Lanier as breathing." 

EXPLANATORY: 

I 

I. Mr. Hayne. In the Critic of 1886, Paul Hamilton Hayne 
printed with personal comment a group of letters which Lanier 
had written him during their long friendship. He says in introduc- 
ing this letter: "The next letter seems to me a striking one. 
One part of it is a prose-poem, touched by an exquisite delicacy of 
fancy; and another part foreshadows that trenchant critical force, 
combining fine analysis with truly philosophical generalization, 
displayed so conspicuously at a subsequent period, in Lanier's 
lectures at Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore." 

II 

In 1873 the position of first flute in the Peabody Symphony 
Orchestra of Baltimore was offered to Lanier by the director, Asger 



The Notes 4^^ 

Hamerick. Lanier accepted the position, and this letter describes 
his feehngs as he went through the first rehearsal. The archaic 
style of the letter gives it a quaint and poetic tone throughout. 
The fact that Lanier was not lacking in humor is also illustrated here. 
2. Flauto Primo, First flute. Note the use and the effect of 
the Italian musical terms introduced here and there" in the letter. 
62. Niels Gade 's Ossian Overture. Niels Gade was a noted Danish 
conductor and composer. Ossian was the old Gaelic bard to whom 
James Macpherson (i 738-1 796) attributed the authorship of the 
epic poem Fingal. Macpherson's work was later found to be fabri- 
cations of his own on certain fragments of Gaelic poetry which he 
had heard in the Highlands of Scotland. 

Ill 

2. Mr, Taylor. The relations between Bayard Taylor and 
Sidney Lanier were extremely cordial. The series of letters which 
passed between them not only throws much light on the life of both 
writers, but affords an excellent example of a literary correspondence 
of an eminently practical and helpful kind. 

II. Pen. Changed from "few," which was evidently a mis- 
print. 

25. The poem. Doubtless the poem referred to is The Waving 
oj the Corn, which appeared in Harper's Magazine in 1877. 

27. International Review. In reply Mr. Taylor condemned 
the International Review; he sent the poem entitled To Beethoven to 
the Galaxy. Lanier received twenty-five dollars for this lyric. 

35. Mr. Eggleston. George Gary Eggleston, who was at this time 
literary editor of the New York Evening Post. 

Christmas -night in the Quarters 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This operetta or collection of negro melodies and flashlight pic- 
tures of negro life on the old Southern plantation has received high 
praise from students of dialect poetry and negro character. It was 
published in Scribner 's Magazine, January, 1 878. Read on page 228 
what Joel Chandler Harris has to say about this production. 

EXPLANATORY: 

Quarters. On the old plantations the negro cabins were built 
close together at some convenient point near the "big house," or 
home of the planter. This group of cabins was known as the 
"quarters." 

4. ** Christmas gift." The custom of the negroes and of the 
Southern children of crying, "Christmas gift," and demanding a 
present of the one who is "caught," or greeted first, is still in 
vogue to some extent, though it seems to be passing. 

28. Star . . . Yee-bawee. Star is a common name for a 
steer with a blazed face. Buck is a common name for an ox. 
Compare Buck-Kannon (Buchanan), line 46. Yee-bawee probably 
means "Go Forward." 

31. Huss. Hearse. 



4^6 Southern Literary Readings 

41. Polly tishners. Spell the word correctly. 
46. W90 bahgh. Whoa, back! 

57. Twistin'. The favorite method of making a "suUed" ox 
move is to twist its tail. 

76. Brudder Brown, The negro minister is always called 
"Brother." 

77. Quarter race. Gambling was, of course, largely indulged 
in at these second-class quarter-mile races. 

96. Isrul's prophet king. Who? 

116. Kwattillion. CotHlion. The "set-caller" is the person who 
calls out the movements or figures of the dance. Here, as often, 
the fiddler is both musician and caller. 

153. Still chorused. The dogs that have followed their masters 
to the party are pictured as howling on the outside in that doleful 
way dogs have of doing when they hear certain musical sounds. 

189. Herald. The Vicksburg Herald. 

191. Natchez. A famous steamboat of the early days. 

198. Morgan. A breed of draft horses. The name is often 
given specifically to any large, strong horse, and is usually pro- 
nounced Moggin by the negroes. 

201. Lebbee. The levee, or embankment thrown up along the 
lower Mississippi. 

203. Bitters.- A cheap grade of whisky. There is usually some 
one on the steamer who handles or mixes the bitters. 

206. Painters. Panthers. 

208. Ham. One of Noah's sons, the traditional father of the 
negro race. In Hebrew the word means swarthy. 

238, Pass. Slaves were often given written passes, with limited 
dates, to go from one plantation to another. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) When and where is the scene laid? (2) Describe the gathering 
of the negroes at the dance. (3) What opportunity for "local color " 
does the ox team afford the author? (4) What is the main thought 
of Jim's comparison of the team with the United States? What 
does he mean by the steers "stalling"? Interpret the idea in lines 
50-57. (5) What is the principal element of humor in "Brudder" 
Brown's prayer? What does he mean by "let de time excuse de 
sin " ? Explain the blunder "dem sheriffs in de sky." (6) Point out 
several striking lines in the prayer. Examine particularly lines 
88, 89; 95; 98, 99; 100, loi. (7) On what basis is the decision as 
to the best dancer made? (8) How is the evening spent after 
the supper? Give the various groups of characters as you imagine 
them placed. (9) What humorous touch is intended in line 173? 
(10) How is the banjo introduced? (The banjoist is also the host. 
See line 7.) (11) What is the banjoist 's attitude toward the 
fiddler? (12) Tell the legend as to why the possum's tail is bare. 
Turn the dialect into as good English as you can command. (13) 
What is the effect of mixing Noah's flood with local matters such 
as the Herald, the steamer Natchez, Morgan colt, Jersey cattle, etc. ? 
(14) Does the pun in line 216 seem likely to have been made by 



The Notes 457 

a negro? (15) What is meant by "wash-day-dinner graces"? (16) 
Why is Santa Claus pictured as departing in grief and tears? (17) 
Now review the piece as a whole and give the various impressions 
and pictures of negro Hfe in the order of their presentation. 
(18) The introductory and concluding passages and the connecting 
links or the descriptive or explanatory sections are written in con- 
tinuous four-stress iambic couplets with an occasional feminine or 
double rime. Sometimes these rimes give an intentional familiar, 
humorous, or grotesque effect, as in lines 76, 79, 156, and 159. This 
rhythm is used effectively by Whittier in his idyl of New England 
farm life. Snow-hound. (19) Notice the feminine rimes in Jim's song 
on his ox team. What effect is gained by the use of these? How 
many stresses are there in the lines of Jim's song? (20) The prayer 
and the banjo song are in the old seven-stress line so frequently 
used in the early ballads. Notice the absence of the feminine 
rimes in the prayer, and the organic use of them in the banjo song. 
Is there any difference in the effect? 

Business in Mississippi 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem is in the form of a dramatic monologue — the form which 
Browning perfected and used in some of his most noteworthy poems. 
We have here a picture of one phase of negro life and character done 
to a turn. The quiet humor, the sly wit, the pretended innocence 
and skillful shifts of the old negro make this a delightful bit of char- 
acter study. 
EXPLANATORY: 

I. Mahsr Johnny. Just after the war, the negroes applied the 
title "Master" to every white man of any dignity or material 
prosperity. 

4. Refugees. Probably referring to the flight of the people 
before Sherman's army in his famous march through Georgia. 

14. Seditions. Conditions. Note the humorous effect. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Picture to yourself the scene and the characters. (2) What 
is a dramatic monologue? (3) What do you suppose the merchant 
says at various points? Can you get the characteristics of the white 
man as well as of the negro? Name some of the qualities that you 
imagine "Mahsr Johnny" possessed. (4) Analyze the character 
of the negro; do you think he had any good qualities? (5) What is 
implied in his choosing a young or inexperienced merchant? (6) 
Why does he begin by begging a favor ?^ Would the negroes you 
know say "tobacco"? Point out other differences in the dialect as 
you know it and as it is given here. (7) What methods of flattery 
are employed in the second stanza? This prepares for the bargaining 
which begins in stanza 3. (8) Why do you think the negro would 
rather sell to "Mahsr Johnny"? (9) Do you suppose the buyer 
raises the price on the strength of the earnest pleadings in lines 
17-20? (10) What loud protestations does the negro make in lines 
22-26? Is it true that those who boast the loudest are often weakest 



458 Southern Literary Readings 

in those very things about which they boast? (ii) How does the 
negro's quick wit save him in the first deception in which he is 
caught? Do you think "Mahsr Johnny" accepts his explanation 
as true? (12) Why is the negro so anxious to get rid of his cotton 
just after this first disclosure? What movement do you imagine 
the merchant has made? (13) Why are the protests urged so 
eloquently against the use of the auger? (14) How does the negro 
escape from the last discovery? What makes this such a good 
stroke of humor? Compare lines 28 and 40 for a suggestion here. 

Mahsr John 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem was published in the old Scrihner^s Magazine for May, 
1877. It has in it a delightful mingling of the imaginative exaggera- 
tion and the subtle sympathy and fidelity so characteristic of the 
old-time darky. The poem may be called a monologue or a soliloquy. 

EXPLANATORY: 

II. GaVry. Gallery. In the South "gallery" was formerly 
almost universally and is still widely used for veranda or porch. 

22. Loozyan. Louisiana. 

24. Oberseahs. Overseers. 

32. 'Tic'lar sarcumsiance. Spell out both words correctly. 

37. Sullybrated. Spell the correct form. 

39. 'Lows. Allows. Allow is used by many uneducated people 
in the sense of to declare as one's opinion or belief. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Divide the poem into two movements, giving an appropriate 
name to each division. (2) The first stanza may be called the 
initial or introductory thought. What, then, is the initial impulse 
that arouses the old negro's defense of his Mahsr John? (3) Stanzas 
2 to 8 inclusive are the negro's reminiscent description of Mahsr 
John in antebellum days. Give the topics for each of these stanzas. 
(4) The last two stanzas form the conclusion and give us a picture 
of the changed condition of Mahsr John since the war. Give the 
topics of these two stanzas. (5) Note the pathetic and loving 
tone of these last stanzas, and contrast this tone with the exag- 
gerated braggadocio of the preceding stanzas. (6) In what way 
does the last stanza echo the thought of the opening stanza? This 
adds unity and completeness to the composition, the poem return- 
ing to its initial impulse and completing, as it were, the circle of 
the thought movement. (7) Now study the lines more in detail. 
Why does the poet select Washington and Franklin to contrast 
with Mahsr John? (8) Tell just what sort of man you think Mahsr 
John was. (9) Does the negro reveal his own character in por- 
traying his old master? Give your notion of the old servant. (10) 
Do you get a fairly comprehensive picture of Southern plantation 
life before the war? Mention some of the details that are most 
suggestive. (11) You will find that there are seven iambic 
feet to each line, and the four-line stanzas are made up of two 



The Notes 4^g 

couplets of these seven-stress lines. Notice how easy and regular 
the rhythm is. Do you find any irregularities in the rhythm? 

Nebuchadnezzar 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This is one of the best known of Russell's poems, and has been 
used many hundreds of times as a popular recitation. It first 
appeared in the old Scribner's Magazine for June, 1876. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. Nebuchadnezzah. The name of the old negro's mule. There 
is perhaps some humor intended in giving him this name, for Nebu- 
chadnezzar was afflicted with a peculiar type of insanity and went 
about on all-fours in the pasture as a grazing animal. See the 
Bible story in Daniel, iv. 28-34. 

7. Advancin'. A year's provision was provided for the free 
negroes when they worked a crop on shares with the owner of the 
land. This was called advancing, because the negroes were rarely 
or never able to pay for their provisions until the cotton crop was 
gathered and sold. 

27. Fotch a mighty jigger. Bring a large price. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Who is speaking and to whom, in this monologue? (2) Divide 
the poem into two main thought movements and a conclusion or 
catastrophe. (3) The last stanza (it may be called the conclusion 
or catastrophe) is a strict soliloquy. In this how does it differ 
from the preceding stanzas? (4) How is the spirit of braggadocio 
developed in the first two stanzas? (5) How does the author 
suggest that the mule is given to kicking? (6) How is the negro's 
confidence in the gentleness of the mule developed in stanzas 3 
and 4? Give some of the phrasings that are most suggestive of this. 
(7) Why is it well to put the line, "An' nebber thinks of kickin'," 
at the very end of the plowman's confidential analysis of the mule's 
character? (8) What do you imagine is happening at line 32 when 
the negro yells, *^Whoa dar! Nebuchadnezzah''} (9) What has 
happened to the old negro to make him ask so many questions at 
the opening of the fifth stanza? (10) In the last two lines is there 
any explanation given of the mule's peculiar actions? Does the 
old negro seem to be proud of Nebuchadnezzar's intelligence? (11) 
Study the arrangement of the rimes. Note the two sets of feminine 
triplets tied together by a masculine rime in the fourth and eighth 
lines. This makes a compact and musical stanzaic structure. (12) 
Read the poem through until you can pronounce all the dialect words 
in a natural and easy manner. Imitate the negro's tones as well as 
you can. (13) Make a list of twenty of the dialect words and give 
the correct spelling. 

The New South 
INTRODUCTORY: 

At the annual banquet of the New England Society of New York, 
December 6, 1 886 (the occasion of the speech from which this selection 



460 Southern Literary Readings 

is taken), Mr., Grady was expected to reply in a formal way to the 
toast "The South"; but as he thought of the luxury and comfort 
of the conquering and the poverty and hardships of the conquered 
section, he felt, as he afterward said, inspired to deliver a message 
to the sons of New England. His effort was received with unbounded 
enthusiasm ; the staid New Englanders are said to have risen to their 
feet and shouted themselves hoarse in applause of the stirring words 
of the young Southern orator. A reporter took down the speech, 
and the next day the news of Grady's triumph swept over the 
country. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. The new South. This phrase, which was made popular by 
Grady, was based on the words of the Georgia senator and orator, 
Benjamin H. Hill, namely: "There was a South of slavery and 
secession — that South is dead. There is a South of union and 
freedom — that South, thank God, is living, breathing, growing every 
hour." Enamored oj means in love with. 

21. A brave and simple man. Grady's father, William S. Grady, 
who was killed in one of the battles about Petersburg, Virginia. 

35. This message. That is, his speech. 

36. The city. Atlanta. Look up in your United States History 
the references to the various engagements fought in and around 
Atlanta in the Civil War. 

76. Those opened eyes, etc. Look up this quotation in Shak- 
spere's / Henry IV, Act I, Sc. i. 
79. Intestine shock. CivH strife. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What new work is referred to in line i? (2) To what does 
Grady attribute the South's defeat? (3) Is there anything of an 
apologetic tone in the manner in which Grady admits that he is 
glad slavery has been abolished? (4) Are all sections now in accord 
with Grady's sentiment that the valor of Southern soldiers is a 
hallowed heritage to the whole nation? Compare the expressions 
of Presidents McKinley and Roosevelt on this subject. (5) What 
answer is expected to the rhetorical interrogations in the first half of 
the last paragraph? (6) Study this paragraph for balance, antithe- 
sis, and parallel structure. Why are these devices effective in 
an oration? 

The Farmer*s Home 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This extract, which is complete in itself, is taken from The Farmer 
and the Cities, a speech delivered at the Farmers' Alliance barbecue 
held at Elberton, Georgia, in June, 1889. Joel Chandler Harris in 
his memorial sketch of Grady says: "I think there is no passage in 
our modern literature equal in its effectiveness and pathos to his 
picture of a Southern farmer's home. It is a matter on which his 
mind dwelt. There was that in his nature to which both sun and 
soil appealed. The rain falling on a fallow field, the sun shining 
on the bristling and waving corn, and the gentle winds of heaven 



The Notes 461 

blowing over all — he was never tired of talking of these, and his talk 
always took the shape of a series of picturesque descriptions. He 
appreciated their spiritual essence as well as their material meaning, 
and he surrendered himself entirely to all the wholesome suggestions 
that spring from the contemplation of rural scenes." Grady used 
this picture of the farmer's home on other occasions, but he always 
varied it to suit the audience and the occasion. For another 
version of the passage, the student is referred to the impromptu 
address made before the Bay State Club in Boston in 1889. (See 
page 202 of the memorial volume of Grady's Life, Writings, and 
Speeches.) 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Outline this passage, noting particularly the contrast devel- 
oped. (2) Study the parallelism of phrases in the first paragraph. 
(3) Notice the realism and yet the poetic idealism of the de- 
scription _ of the Southern home. (4) Read the passage aloud 
several times, or, better still, memorize it and recite it. 

The Wounded Soldier 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The speech from which this extract is taken was delivered at the 
State Fair in Dallas, Texas, October 26, 1887, Less than a year 
before, the speech on The New South had carried Grady's name 
on the wings of fame to every nook and corner of the country; hence 
the vast audience gathered here in the heart of one of his own South- 
ern States was prepared for something great, and his hearers were 
in nowise disappointed. If the first speech opened the eyes of the 
Northern audience to the reviving spirit of a new South, the second 
revealed to the South the stupendous tasks which lay before her in 
solving the race problem and the no less important industrial prob- 
lems of the section. The peroration of this Dallas speech is, perhaps, 
the most intensely emotional and thoroughly imaginative utterance 
that fell from the lips of the inspired young orator. Grady had, at 
the instigation of his friends, carefully prepared the manuscript, 
and had left a copy in Atlanta for publication on the morning after 
the delivery of the speech. When he rose to speak, however, he 
discarded the written speech, following it only in outline and using 
only such parts as seemed desirable in the inspiration of the moment. 
He was thus put under the necessity of telegraphing back to his own 
paper to suppress the copy he had left in Atlanta. 

EXPLANATORY: 

4. Thermopylce. Look up in your history the story of King 
Leonidas with his band of Spartans at Thermopylae. 

7. Alamo. The famous fort at San Antonio, Texas, where 
Bowie, Fanning, Travis, Crockett, and others were massacred. The 
Spanish word alamo means cottonwood, and the fort is said to have 
been named for a clump of cottonwood trees which stood near by. 
II. Goliad . . . San Jacinto. Look up these battles in the 
history of Texas. 



462 Southern Literary Readings 

24. Forum. That is, the Halls of Congress during the debates 
preceding the Civil War. 

26. Arbitrament. Authoritative and final settlement or decision. 
40. From. Apparently equivalent to "on account of." 
46. Aftermath. Literally, an "after" or second mowing. 
82. Will. Properly shall. Will is the common form in con- 
versation and impromptu speech. 

115. Held on the staunch. That is, held the floodgate, stanched 
the blood. 

123. Great Physician. Christ. The term is not found in the 
Bible. 

138. The hoy. His son, Henry Woodfin Grady, Jr. 

181. Arcturus. A brilliant star in the constellation Bootes. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

' (i) How many years was it after the close of the Civil War that 
this speech was delivered? Is there any note of bitterness in the 
passage here reproduced? What was Grady's chief message to his 
countrymen in this connection? (2) What preparation for the 
picture of the wounded soldier is there in the sentences just preceding 
it? Can the audience tell at first just what application was to be 
made of the illustration? Why is it effective for an orator to keep 
his hearers in suspense at times? (3) Name in order the five visions 
that came to the soldier. (4) How does the speaker apply the 
picture of the wounded soldier to the South? How and when 
was the South thus sorely wounded? (5) Point out passages in 
which Grady shows his love for the Union. (6) Compare the 
picture of the soldier's home life, as here presented, with the picture 
of the Southern farmer's home life in the preceding selection. What 
seems to be the general relationship between the two? (7) Is the 
glowing vision of the South's future prosperity and happiness any 
nearer realization now than it was when Grady spoke these words? 
(8) Do you think the last paragraph might have been dispensed 
with? Why? (9) Is the last sentence of all well constructed? 
Why is an orator to be excused for making an occasional loose or 
incoherent sentence? 

Earth Shield and Earth Festival 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This passage, though complete in itself, is the prelude or intro- 
duction to the story called The Bride of the Mistletoe, published in 
1909. It gives us an imaginative description of Kentucky and of 
the Christmas festival. 

EXPLANATORY: 

6. Kentucky. An Indian name said to mean "the dark and 
bloody ground." This makes the figure of the battle-piece still 
more appropriate. 

10. Set the stream of ocean. Compare the Iliad, Book XVIII 
(Pope's translation). 

12. Father of Waters. Explain. 



The Notes 46 j 

12. Along the edge for a space she bound a bright river. What 
river is this, and on what edge? 

15. Shaggy mountains. What mountains are referred to? 

21. A tough skin of verdure. Referring to the blue grass. 

37. Hephaistos . . . Achilles . . . Thetis. Hephaestus or 
Vulcan, the blacksmith of the gods, was the son of Jupiter and 
Juno. Being lame, he was cast out of heaven by Juno, but he was 
befriended by Thetis, the mother of Achilles, in gratitude for whom 
Hephaestus afterward forged the wonderful shield. See the Iliad, 
BookXVni. 

39. Sprang like a falcon from snowy Olympus. Olympus was the 
seat of the gods, and here Hephaestus made the shield and gave it 
to Thetis to bear to her son. Compare the Iliad, Book XVHI. 

44. Espousals and marriage feasts. All of these scenes are pic- 
tured by Homer as being embossed by Hephaestus on the shield 
which he made for Achilles. 

83. Sightless orbs of Homer. Explain the allusion. 
loi. Sun seems farthest from the planet. The winter solstice oc- 
curs December 21. Is the sun reaUy farthest from the earth then? 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The title suggests the two main divisions of the selection. 
Mark out the subdivisions or paragraph topics under each of these 
divisions and construct an outline. The following questions will 
be found suggestive. (2) Why is Kentucky compared to an ancient 
shield? (3) Describe the tilt of the shield or the drainage system 
of Kentucky. (4) Give a suggestive review of the natural history 
of the state. (5) How does the author introduce the elaborate 
comparison with another famous ancient shield? (6) Enumerate 
some of the life scenes wrought upon the shield, noting how closely 
the author has followed the description given in the Iliad. (7) 
Compare the scenes on the shield of Achilles with the living scenes 
in Kentucky. (8) What single festival is selected for fuller develop- 
ment in the second large division? (9) How is this spectacle both 
new and old? (10) Why is it remembered throughout the year? 
(11) What is the time of this festival? Compare this with the exact 
date of the winter solstice. (12) Give a condensed history of the 
meaning of the festival. (13) What evergreens are associated with 
Christmas, and what symbolic lesson does the author draw from this 
circumstance? (14) Indicate some of the most striking and melo- 
dious phrasings. (15) Spell and define these words, locating them in 
the text: colossal, artificer, embossed, emerged, espousals, plaited, 
pageants, changing, vernal, solstice, succor, symbolic, warring. 

The Tale of the Crystal Bell 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This story is found in Wally Wanderoon and His Story-telling 

Machine. Two children, Buster John and Sweetest Susan, with 
their negro companion Drusilla, live on their grandfather's planta- 
tion in the South, just after the Civil War. The children go through 
the woods to make a visit to Billy Biscuit, a funny little negro boy, 



464 Southern Literary Readings 

at the home of Mr. Bobbs. On their way they meet a strange 
Httle man with very short legs, wearing a tall hat and a coat with 
tails that reach almost to the ground. After going on to Mr. Bobbs's 
house and adding Billy Biscuit to their party, they come back to 
learn more of this peculiar man. They find him waiting as though 
he expected them, and they soon learn that his name is Wally 
Wanderoon. The strange little man keeps poking and prodding 
with his cane in the fence corners as though he had lost something. 
The children inquire what he is looking for, and he replies, "I am 
looking for the Good Old Times we used to have." Presently 
Wally takes the children by a miraculous route through the air to 
his far-away country, where there are many queer things — among 
them an old-fashioned story-telling machine. This machine is a 
tall, narrow box made like a hand organ, and all one has to do to 
make it tell a story is to turn the handle, whereupon the story comes 
out of an orifice near the top. The children soon discover that 
there is a man in the box, who, it seems, can tell any kind of story 
that is desired. One story after another is called for, and The Tale 
0} the Crystal Bell is told in answer to Sweetest Susan's request for 
an old-fashioned fairy tale. 
EXPLANATORY: 

8. Simples. Medicinal plants. 

488. Halberds. Ornamented battle axes on long spear shafts: 
used chiefly in processional displays. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The story is extremely simple both in style and in structure, 
and hence there is little need of elaborate analysis. Make a brief 
outline showing the chief incidents. (2) Describe the life led by 
Lizette and her parents. (3) Where do you imagine they lived? 
Can you tell partly by the occupation, the religion, the dress, etc.? 
(4) Where does the action of the story properly begin? (5) Relate 
the incident of the finding of the old woman and of her transforma- 
tion. What traits of Lizette's character are brought out by this 
incident? Do you see any allegorical meaning in this part of the 
story? (6) Why is the incident of the butterfly caught in the spider's 
web reverted to here? What is the spider intended to typify? 
(7) Why is it important to mention the fact that the spider is not 
killed? (8) Why is the hag so anxious to get possession of the bell? 
(9) Why does the old woman show so much animosity toward 
Lizette? (10) Connect this with a preceding incident. (11) 
Account for the further troubles that Lizette has in returning to 
her parents' cottage. (12) Why does the butterfly once have 
to rise over the tops of the trees? (13) Why does the lady who 
has taken charge of Lizette arrange to have the prince meet 
Lizette without disclosing his identity? (14) Why do you sup- 
pose the prince chooses Lizette when she is not a candidate 
and has not provided a rare trinket as a dowry? (15) Why is 
the butterfly introduced in the conclusion? (16) What do you 
think is represented by the crystal bell which Lizette wears next 
to her heart? 



The Notes 465 

Taking the Blue Ribbon at the County Fair 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This is one of Miss Murfree's earlier, though none the less charac- 
teristic, mountain stories, the scene being laid in the Great Smoky- 
Mountains in east Tennessee, the setting of so many of her stories. 
It was first published in Appleton's Summer Book for 1880, though 
probably it was written a few years earlier. It is to be found now 
in a volume of Miss Murfree's stories, The Mystery of Witchface 
Mountain, published in 1895. 

EXPLANATORY: 

70. Old Bear. One of the subordinate ranges in the Great 
Smoky Mountains. 

96. Kildeer County . . . Colbury. Fictitious names used to 
delocalize the story, though the location of the n^ountains in east 
Tennessee gives a sufficiently definite setting. 

109. Jersey. A well-known breed of fine dairy cattle originally 
from the Island of Jersey in the English Channel. 

111. Berkshires. A breed of swine originally from Berkshire, 
England. 

112. Merinos. A Spanish breed of sheep, having long, closely 
set, silky wool. 

189. Diana. The goddess of the chase or hunting; also called 
the moon-goddess and the protectress of virgins. She is usually 
represented as wearing a crescent crown and with a bow and quiver 
slung across her shoulders. 

487. The rhododendro7i, the azalea, the Chilhowee lily. Familiar 
mountain flowering plants. 

598. Sylvan deity. Wood nymph: applied here to the moun- 
tain girl. 

714. High dudgeon. Intense feeling of resentment or anger. 

827. Eclat. Showiness, exciting or brilliant circumstances: a 
French word, pronounced a-kla/. 

THO UGHT Q UESTIONS A ND LITERA RY ANAL YSIS: 

(i) After reading through the story, summarize the plot in a 
single paragraph of about one page. (2) Study the structure of 
the story, dividing the material into five sections. Let the student 
mark out as exactly as possible the dividing lines between the 
larger sections and the subdivisions. (3) Repeat some of the most 
striking details in the pen picture of Jenks. (4) Describe the home. 
(5) Contrast the appearance and character of Mrs. Hollis and her 
husband. (6) Notice how the paragraph beginning "His inner 
life" leads up to the exposition of the animosity between the village 
or valley folk and the mountaineers. Why is it essential to the 
interest of the story to develop this feeling of animosity so fully? 
(7) The transitional paragraph beginning, "And to-day, compla- 
cently enough," returns precisely to the scene of the opening para- 
graph. Point out the exact words in this and the second paragraph 
following it which are repeated from the first paragraph, and say 
why this device is employed. (8) Describe fully Cynthia's dress 

30 



466 Southern Literary Readings 

and appearance. (9) In the opening of this description of Cynthia 
mention is made of her slumberous eyes. Point out other uses of 
this word in the story, and note the effect thus gained. (10) Begin- 
ning with "She was the central figure of the landscape," the author 
develops the midday atmosphere of the mountain scene in 
five paragraphs. Give appropriate topics for these. (11) Why 
is Jenks Hollis's appearance among the riders made an occasion 
of merriment and applause? (12) Can you guess why Jacob Brice 
enters the contest? (13) Explain how the contestants are gradually 
reduced to three. How does this increase the interest in the out- 
come? (14) What device does Jacob use to make Cynthia come 
to a decision? (15) What makes Jacob pause so long after he had 
addressed her with the words, "Look hyar, Cynthy"? (16) Point 
out the exact climax of the story. (17) Do you think Jenks Hollis 
really wins the prize? Point out passages to support your opinion. 
(18) Are Hollis and his wife very greatly distressed to lose their 
daughter thus? Give your reasons for thinking as you do. (19) 
What is the effect of having Cynthia come home to help her mother 
do the winter weaving and spinning? (20) How does the speech of 
Mrs. Hollis in the last paragraph help to unify the two main strands 
of the plot of the story? (21) Spell and define the following words: 
oracular, mosaic, interlocutor, puncheon, exuberant, portentously, 
scrupulous, deficiencies, sedate, uncouth, vista, resonant, prema- 
turely, squalor, concomitant, inertia, invidious, incongruous, 
integrant, cerulean, unceremonious, athletic, immobility, furtive, 
demeanor, effulgence, lethargy, precipitous, ambient, serrated, 
aberration, denizeqs, nonchalant, hilarity, interloper, vendetta, 
manoeuvres, volubility, recreant, ignominious, labyrinth, didac- 
tically, irrelevantly, cogitation, reiterated, ineffably, caparisoned, 
rubicund, vociferated, dudgeon, explicit, translucent, mirage, 
horizon, eclat. 

The One-legged Goose 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This story, though complete in itself, is imbedded in Colonel 
Carter of Carter sville, a novel published in 1891. Chad (short for 
Nebuchadnezzar, and hence pronounced cad), the old negro body 
servant of Colonel Carter, has accompanied his master to New York 
to serve him while he is trying to float bonds for a railroad scheme 
which will give Cartersville — in the Colonel's opinion "the Garden 
Spot of Virginia " — an outlet to the sea. It is to one of the Colonel's 
friends, denominated "the Major," who drops in to dinner one 
evening a few minutes before the Colonel returns to his residence, 
that Chad tells the story of the "one-legged goose." Mr. Smith 
says in a footnote: "This story, and the story of the 'Postmaster' 
in a preceding chapter, I have told for so many years and to so many 
people, and with such varied amplifications, that I have long since 
persuaded myself that they are creations of my own. I surmise, 
however, that the basis of the 'Postmaster' can be found in the 
corner of some forgotten newspaper, and I know that the 'One- 
legged Goose' is as old as the 'Decameron,'" 



The Notes 467 

EXPLANATORY: 

7. Miss Nancy. The beautiful, self-sacrificing maiden aunt 
of the Colonel, "a true Southern lady," who pays all the Colonel's 
bills and eventually gives him a fortune in coal lands. 

14. Quarters. See the first note on Irwin Russell's poem, Christ- 
mas-night in the Quarters, p. 455. 

45. Swamp lan's. Unruly Virginia negroes were sometimes 
sold to the rice planters of South Carolina. 

142. Whole kit an' b'ilin'. The whole crowd: a Southern 
provincial expression. The word kit, meaning a chest of varied 
sorts of tools or the like, is probably associated with the dialect 
pronunciation of kettle, kittle; hence the addition of an' b'ilin' for 
and boodle (or kaboodle) used in other sections of the United States. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Make an outline, dividing the story into its logical parts. 
(2) What tone does the old negro assume toward the antebellum 
days? (3) Do you get a clear conception of the old plantation life? 

(4) What sort of man do you imagine Marsa John to have been? 
Compare him with Mahsr John in Irwin Russell's poem, p. 241. 

(5) At what point in the narrative is Henny introduced? Why 
just at this point? (6) How does Chad first try to conceal the loss 
of the leg? (7) Why does he suggest to the guests to have ham or 
breast of goose? (8) What is Chad's second lie, and why does he 
tell it? (9) Rewrite the story in your own words, using good 
English, and correcting the dialect spelling throughout. 

Gordia 

INTRODUCTORY: 

■Gordia is a mystical, ballad-like poem dealing with supernatural 
material. Its inspiration came, the author says, from a vivid dream. 
The glosses, made after the model of Coleridge's device in The Rime 
of the Ancient Mariner, summarize or condense the story in quaint 
and poetic prose ; but these should not be read other than as inter- 
pretative hints, for the main thing is the poem itself. 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. Nightbird. The owl. 

5. Sea-mells. Sea mews or gulls. 

6. Prosper. A name chosen for its romantic associations. It 
appears in many medieval romances. 

15. Tell. Count the beads or say the prayers of the rosary. 

16. Criste's moder. Christ's mother. These Middle English 
word forms are used for poetic or archaic effect. Point out others. 

17. Wis. Know, think. 

20. Sea-stocks. A stock is an old-fashioned garden flower, here 
transferred to the sea. 

40. Demesne. Realm. Pronounced here d^-men'. It rimes with 
seen three lines below. 

45. Bossed. Ornamented with raised figures. Sea-dace is a kind 
of sea perch. 



468 Southern Literary Readings 

63. Whitsuntide. The week beginning with Whitsunday, which 
is the seventh Sunday after Easter. This church festival celebrates 
the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. Why is the season 
appropriate? 

73. Maun. Must. An old form still in use among the Scotch. 
85. Sea-kale. An edible coastal plant of the cabbage variety. 

107. Sea-wold. Wold is an archaic word meaning field or wood. 

143. Buoy-hell. A warning bell fixed in a floating tower and 
rung by the tossing waves. Pronounced preferably as though 
spelled boy. Metrically the diphthong is equivalent to two syllables 
here. 

171. Burthens. The refrains or choruses in the old songs were 
called burdens. Notice the archaic form of the word. 

173. Suffered some sea-change. Consciously borrowed from 
Ariel's song in The Tempest, Act I, Sc. ii. 

210. Sea-anemones. Soft-bodied sea animals resembling • the 
anemone or windflower. Pronounced d-nem'o-nfe. 

227. Lanthorns, An old variant spelling of lanterns. Look up 
the interesting history of this form. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Point out the details of the setting of the poem. Is it evening 
or early morning? Why is the moon called horned? (2) In what 
age and in what land do you suppose the events recorded took place? 
(3) What is the dominant tone? What words in the first sixteen 
lines determine the tone? (4) Why does Prosper so often go out 
alone under the stars? (5) Give instances of the superstition of 
fisher-folk and sailors. (6) What do the old fisherwomen think 
of Gordia? (7) How can you tell what religion these simple folk 
profess? (8) In what ways do Prosper and Gordia differ from the 
common fisher-folk? (9) How and why did Gordia disappear? 
(10) Why do you suppose Prosper left her, to go on the sea voyage? 
What delayed his return? (11) Give the picture of the appearing 
of the mermaid to Prosper in the moonlight. (12) Explain why the 
lines and the colors of Gordia's body and mantle are made to follow 
the movements and tints of the sea. (13) Of what does Gordia 
sing in her first song? In her second? (14) Give the pictures 
as seen by Gordia from the king's palace under the sea. How do 
everyday objects like the sun and moon appear when seen from 
under the sea? (15) How long does Prosper seek for his lost love 
before he finds her? Why is this number chosen? (16) What is 
it that changes Prosper to a merman? (17) How do the common 
fisher-folk interpret the disappearance of Prosper? How do you 
interpret it? (18) In the next to the last stanza note the return 
to the lonely sights and sounds of the ocean. Does this device sat- 
isfy the requirements of unity in the poem? (19) You will find, 
perhaps, that the vague, mysterious, supernatural quality of the 
legend will not take hold of your imagination until you have studied 
the poem carefully and read it attentively three or four times. 
The quality is very similar to that found in Coleridge's The Rime of 
the Ancient Mariner Sind. in Matthew Arnold's The Forsaken Merman. 



The Notes 46Q 

Compare the three poems. (20) The rhythm of the poem is 
typically iambic, but anapaestic movements are inserted for the 
sake of variety. Compare the passage beginning, " 'Tis the hour, 
I wis," line 17, for the anapaestic effect. Notice how this change of 
rhythm marks the transition into the legend proper, or the body of 
the narrative. 

Texas Heroes 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This is the second in a series of eleven sonnets so far composed 
by Mr. Young on themes connected with Texas history. These 
sonnets have not as yet been published, but those who have had the 
opportunity of seeing the manuscript pronounce them of a quality 
and finish that will give them a secure place among American works 
of this kind. The one given here illustrates the epigrammatic 
terseness, the restrained power, the imaginative force, the artistic 
finish, and the historic truth which characterizes the whole sequence. 

EXPLANATORY: 

1. A land betrayed and wronged. Because they were so different 
in every way, the Texans and Mexicans never understood each 
other. Texas belonged to Mexico, but had been settled largely by 
Americans; hence the Mexicans feared that the Texans would raise 
a rebellion and annex their territory to the United States. Natur- 
ally the Mexican government tried to prevent this, with the result 
that the Texans were aroused to resistance. There is no question 
that from their point of view the settlers were "betrayed and 
wronged." 

2. Immortal height. The height of patriotic glory and martyrdom 
for their country. 

4. Saxon blood. The Americans who settled in Texas were 
largely of Anglo-Saxon descent. 

5. Martin. Colonel William B. Travis, who was defending the 
Alamo with only one hundred fifty men against Santa Anna's 
army, sent out an urgent appeal for help, and on February 23, 
1836, Captain Albert Martin and thirty-one men left Gonzales, 
Texas, to go to his relief. On March i, before daylight, they forced 
their way through the Mexican lines and added their strength to the 
brave band of Texans under Travis. 

7. Brave Bonham. Colonel J. B, Bonham, a South Carolinian, 
one of the defenders of the Alamo, was sent to Goliad for reenf or ce- 
ments, but being unable to obtain immediate help, he returned to 
the Alamo to "die beside his comrades." 

9. Mild Austin. Stephen F. Austin, who did so much for Texas 
in settling up the grants obtained by him from the Mexican govern- 
ment, in leading the revolutionary forces, and in guiding the 
destinies of the young nation with his wise counsel, was born in 
Virginia in 1793 and died in Texas, 1836. He has been called the 
"Father of Texas." When the first president was to be chosen, 
he was the logical man for the place, but he gave way to General 
Sam Houston ; and when the latter asked him to become Secretary 
of State, he gracefully accepted because he thought Texas still had 



470 Southern Literary Readings 

need of his services. "He literally gave his life to the state, and his 
noble example will serve forever to inspire the gratitude and unselfish 
patriotism of every true Texan." {History oj Texas. Barker, Potts, 
and Ramsdell.) 

II. Houston. General Sam Houston, the great chieftain who 
conquered Santa Anna at San Jacinto, April 21, 1836, and was 
chosen first President of the Republic of Texas in that same year, is 
one of the most romantic characters in American history. For 
the facts of his life see any good encyclopedia or history of Texas. 

13. Travis. Colonel William B. Travis, an Alabamian, was 
placed in command of the Alamo. The story of his heroic defense 
of this citadel and of his brave death on March 6, 1836, with all his 
men, is known as the most glorious incident in Texas history, and 
one of the most thrilling in all history. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Note that there is but a single thought developed in this 
sonnet. State it in a phrase. (2) The first quatrain (four lines) 
states the theme, and the remainder of the poem particularizes, 
giving two lines to each of the heroes mentioned. Not all of the 
Texas heroes could be named in a single sonnet, of course, but those 
given are typical. Outline the poem, and tell what you know of 
each of the heroes mentioned. (3) What is meant by "draggled 
columns"? (4) Give the exact meaning of line 4. (5) Why is 
Austin called "mild"? (6) Explain the meaning of line 10. (7) 
Explain "burly chief of wit and brawn." (8) Why iS| Houston 
called "Atlas of his little earth"? (9) Why is Travis reserved for 
the last? Do you note an ascending order in the arrangement of 
the heroes? (10) What is a sonnet? Study out the rime scheme 
of this sonnet (abba abba, cdecde), and note that it is Italian or 
Petrarchan in form. (11) Wreath and death do not make a perfect 
ear rime, but such eye rimes are permissible. 

The Gift of the Magi 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The Gift of the Magi first appeared in the New York World in 
1905, and was later included in the volume of stories dealing with 
New York life, The Four Million. It was reissued by Doubleday, 
Page & Company as a holiday booklet in 19 11, and has since grown 
rapidly in favor as one of the sweetest and most human of American 
Christmas stories. 
EXPLANATORY: 

The magi. See the explanation given at the end of the story. 
Pronounced ma'ji. 

3. Bulldozing. This is a modern slang word, but such words 
give the desired tone for a story of this kind. Note other slang and 
colloquial expressions which help to give a realistic tone to the 
conversation. 

59. Queen of Sheba . . . King Solomon. See I Kings, iv. 
76. Mme. Sofronie. Madame Sofronie. 

115. Coney Island. Famous pleasure resort near New York City. 



The Notes 4.JI 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Summarize the plot of the story in a single brief paragraph. 
(2) This is a typical modern short story. Its chief interest lies in 
its unity of impression and the surprise climax at the close. The 
story may be divided into five sections as follows: 

/. Introduction: Theme stated and setting developed. 

//. First movement of the plot action: Delia decides to sell her 
hair (beginning "Suddenly she whirled"). 
///. Second movement: The purchase of the watch fob. 

IV. Third movement: Preparation for Jim's home-coming. 
V. Fourth or climax movement: The revelation scene. 
Point out the exact division lines between the movements. (3) Give 
the setting (time and place) in your own words. (4) Why is so 
much made of the $1.87 in the opening of the story? What other 
facts are given to show the poverty of the young couple? (5) 
Just what sort of people do you imagine Jim and Delia to be? (6) 
The first movement of the story proper is arrested for a moment 
to explain the two most valued possessions of Delia and Jim. Why 
was this necessary? (7) Do you get a vivid picture of Delia? Give 
some of the details of the description and note just what points are 
most emphasized. (8) "Two hours tripped by on rosy wings." Ex- 
plain why the author calls this a "hashed metaphor." (9) Why 
was a platinum fob chosen by Delia? (10) What is the effect 
of the little prayer that Delia utters just before Jim comes in? 
(11) Explain the allusion "Maybe the hairs of my head are num- 
bered." (12) What was it that caused Jim such consternation when 
he saw Delia? (13) Notice how well the revelation scene is man- 
aged. Study this section closely to see just how the different ele- 
ments are taken up so as to create surprise on the part of both the 
characters and the reader. (14) What lesson is drawn in the 
conclusion? (15) Point out elements of lively narration, sly 
humor, and vigorous diction in the style. (16) Locate, spell, and 
define the following words: imputation, parsimony, instigates, 
mendicancy, nervously, laboriously, arrived, meretricious, discreet, 
scrutiny, ecstatic, hysterical, necessitating. 

A Chaparral Prince 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This story may be called a modern reaHstic fairy tale. The 
chief merit of the plot is the delightful and amusing mingling of 
the actual and the romantic, the jostling together of the everyday 
hardships and realities of crude Western life with the imaginary 
happenings in the fairyland of Grimm's folk tales. The heroine 
identifies herself with the mistreated and unhappy girl heroines of 
Grimm, and in the midst of her drudgery she confidently expects 
the coming of her prince. The landlady of the hotel becomes 
the cruel mistress of the hostile castle, and the rough laborers 
become the ogres who devour sheep and cows while the captive girl 
waits upon them. There is delightful irony in the transformation 
of the rough outlaws, freebooters, train-robbers into chivalrous 



4J2 Southern Literary Readings 

knights who ride to the rescue of the oppressed and captive damsel 
under the leadership of their prince, Hondo Bill. 
EXPLANATORY: 

Chaparral. In its general sense chaparral means an uncleared 
tract of land covered with a growth of dwarf or scrubby oaks, 
mesquite, prickly pear, cactus plants, and the like. Specifically, 
in south and southwest Texas, a hardy shrub bearing tough spiny 
leaves and bright red berries of great acidity is popularly called 
chaparral. The southern portion of Texas is locally known as the 
"brush" or the "chaparral country." 

22. Grimm. The reference is to the stories of Jakob and 
Wilhelm Grimm, the German philologists and collectors and writers 
of household fairy tales. 

46. Perdenales River . . . Fredericksburg. Locate these on 
your map of Texas. The facts given in the story regarding the 
German settlement in and around Fredericksburg in Gillespie 
County, Texas, are almost literally correct. 

49. Pinochle and scat. Games at cards. 

58. Wiener schnitzel and hasenpfeffer. Wien is the German 
name of Vienna. Wiener schnitzel is a (Vienna) veal cutlet. 
Hasenpfeffer is a dish made of chopped hare stewed with wine and 
pepper and other spices. 

73. Ballinger's. Probably the name of some local store or 
post office on the Fredericksburg road. 
136. Dummkopf. Blockhead. 

139. Auf wiedersehen. Till we meet again : a German expression 
for good-by. 

150. Centaurs. The «entaur was a fabled monster of classic 
mythology, half horse and half man. The author here pays a 
compliment to the horsemanship of the robbers. 

155' Donnerwetter. A German exclamation of impatience, 
equivalent to the English " Thunderation ! " 

156. Was ist? What's the matter? Notice that Fritz always 
speaks in German when he is excited. 

158. Dutch. The terms Dutch, Dutcher, Dutchman are fre- 
quently but erroneously applied to Germans. To what country 
and people do the words properly apply? 

159. Stick-up. Hold-up. 

239. Spondulicks. Slang for money. 

252. Off your kazip. Mistaken; crazy; a slang phrase. 

294. Ausgespielt — nixcumrous. A nonsense expression used by 
Hondo in imitation of Fritz's foreign tongue. 

312. Spiel! Swei bier! Vamoose! A nonsense jumble of 
German words and English slang, used here as a command to 
Fritz to drive off rapidly. 

352. Gott in himmel ! God in heaven! Fritz is excited again. 

375. Schnapps. Strong whisky. 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Make four headings covering the principal incidents of the 
story, and then complete the outline by putting in the subtopics. 



The Notes 473 

(2) Select examples of local color. (Local color is any word, 
phrase, or allusion which is suggestive of the locality in which 
the scene is laid.) (3) Name the characters of the story in the 
order of their importance, dividing them into major and minor. 
(4) Show how the plot becomes more and more complicated as the 
action advances. (5) Why is it necessary to make the Quarrymen's 
Hotel so dingy, dirty, and unattractive? Give some of the details. 
(6) Describe Lena's troubles. Why does the author make her life 
so hard? (7) What is his purpose in making so much of Grimm 
in the beginning of the story? (8) Can you locate in Grimm's 
Fcdry Tales any of the characters referred to in the fourth paragraph? 
(9) How does the last sentence in this paragraph suggest the 
conclusion of the story? (10) What is the effect of Lena's letter 
on the reader? Point out some of the phrases which arouse your 
sympathy. (11) Does the letter sound very much like a child's 
letter? (Remember that this is the author's translation.) (12) 
What purpose do Tommy Ryan and old man Ballinger serve in the 
story? Are they mentioned again? (13) Do you get a clear picture 
of these characters? (14) Why does the author make Fritz so 
greatly interested in Lena and her letter at this point? (15) Point 
out in Fritz's speeches examples of faulty English due to his mix- 
ture of German and English idiom. (16) Explain the thought and 
comment on the phrasing of the sentence beginning "As the lion" 
(line 164). (17) Point out humorous passages in the conversation 
between Fritz and the robbers. (18) Why is Fritz called sauerkraut, 
Wienerwurst, Limhurger, by Rogers? (19) Why do the robbers tie 
Fritz to the tree instead of letting him go on his way? (20) Do you 
note any improbabilities in the story? (21) Show how Lena mixes 
fact and fairy tale in her account of her rescue. (22) Learn to 
spell and define the following words: insatiate, hostelry, grease, 
analogy, ogre, quarries, ruminations, centaurs, perpetrated, com- 
mensurate, casual, sinister, arduous, assiduously, villain, vociferous, 
affably, confute, cocoon, missive, insinuate, quirt, schedule, meer- 
schaum, exhaustion. 

A Prairie Prayer 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This poem, first published in Sunset Magazine in 1909, was com- 
posed in 1908, while Mr. Greer was on a vacation trip in south- 
west Texas. Eighty miles from a railroad, he spent an entire day 
alone in that vast but speaking solitude, and the broad visions and 
sweeping harmonies of the poem are indicative of the poet's deep 
soul experiences as they came welling forth under the influences 
of Nature. 

EXPLANATORY: 

The headpiece quotation is taken from Lines Written a Few 
Miles above T intern Abbey, one of Wordsworth's finest nature 
poems. 

I. Crouched, a-cloistered. This is suggestive of the medieval 
monks and religious enthusiasts who thought that God was pleased 



474 Southern Literary Readings 

with the maceration of the body and with the seclusion of men from 
the world. 

14. Ungyve. Unfetter; take off the gyves. Pronounced un-jiv'. 

18. Thine. Supply eye. 

53. Redolent. Odorous. Note the double alliteration in this 
line and the next. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) In what form is the poem cast? See the title and the poetical 
headpiece for a suggestion. (2) The poem is not written in regular 
stanzas, but in larger thought units or paragraphs. Give the topic 
of each of these larger divisions. (3) Why does the poet wish to 
stand rather than crouch? (4) Explain the thought in lines 21-26. 
(5) Explain the figure in line 26, and comment on its quality. (6) 
How does the poet impress upon the reader his idea of the bound- 
lessness of the plains? (7) Note the use of superlatives in line 33, 
and express your opinion of the effect of the arrangement and the 
form of the words used. (8) What lesson does the poet draw 
from the apparent boundlessness of the plains? (Lines 36-40.) 
(9) Point out a half dozen suggestive phrases in the last stanza, and 
comment on their qualities. (10) Point out and explain three good 
figures of speech in this stanza. (11) Study out the rime scheme in 
each division, making a formula for each similar to this for the first : 
ahahccaa. Note that the rimes sometimes run in couplets, sometimes 
in triplets, while at other times they are more or less widely separated. 
The effect of this variety in the rimes is decidedly artistic and melo- 
dious. There is one false rime near the close. Point it out and 
decide whether you think it seriously mars the melody of the poem 
at this emphatic position.* (12) The rhythm of the poem is char- 
acteristically iambic, and the meter is of the five-stress or pentameter 
type. There are occasional shorter lines of three and two stresses 
which add a pleasing variety to the verse movement or rhyth- 
mic phrasing. (13) The sound quality of this poem is remarkably 
rich and mellow, the effects being brought out by alliteration and 
assonance, as well as by rime. The compound adjectives and 
alliterative pairs are especially noteworthy. Point out examples of 
alliteration. (14) The last or the next to the last stanza would make 
a good memory passage. 

A Mockbird Matinee 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This sparkling little lyric was written in 1904 and first published 
in the Houston Chronicle. It was composed under the inspiration 
of actual scenes and experiences around Pittsburg, in northeast 
Texas. The mocking bird is in his native haunts here, and the 
description of both the music and the setting is accurate to the last 
detail. Of the many songs written on the mocking bird, this one, 
it seems to the editor, is one of the most purely lyric and richly 
imitative. The very diffuseness of the poem is suggestive of the 
wild, free song outbursts of the bird. The lines describing the 



The Notes 475 

music of the mocking bird, especially those from 30 to 47, have 
rarely been surpassed in Southern poetry. 

EXPLANATORY: 

2. Jocund June. Lively, joyous June. Note the alliterative 
melody not only in this line, but throughout the poem. 

8. The verb is omitted. Supply the full expression. 

9. Arabesques. A technical term in architecture, meaning the 
fanciful carvings of leaves and plants in a certain type of ornamenta- 
tion. (See note on line 123 in The Masque of the Red Deaths 
p. 420.) 

59. Rune. A mystic symbol; formerly an alphabetic sign or 
picture used for a word. (See note on line 10 of The Bells, p. 418.) 
THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Give a good topic for the introductory lines. (2) The opening 
passage is somewhat familiar, broken, and conversational in tone. 
Show how this adds emphasis to the more purely lyric and song-like 
parts of the poem. (3) Show that this lyric is composed of an intro- 
ductory impulse, a, descriptive passage showing the forest setting, 
the main description of the bird's singing, and an after song by way 
of conclusion. (4) Pick out and comment on some of the most 
suggestive and melodious lines in the poem. (5) Can you feel 
distinctly and see clearly the forest picture which the poet paints? 
(6) What is meant by "some hoary forest monk"? (7) Explain 
"Fares he forth in modest coat." (8) Note how the tone changes 
at lines 36 and 40 to show the change in the bird's music. How 
would you read these passages to bring out the quality? (9) What 
effects of the bird music upon the listener are indicated in the last 
lines? (10) The poem is written in trochaic four-stress verse. 
The last syllable in each line is omitted because of the rime, 
which is uniformly masculine. Scan a few lines under your teacher's 
direction, but do not read the poem in a singsong fashion. 

The Ranchman's Ride 

EXPLANATORY: 

3. Curlews. The curlew is a large prairie bird, somewhat like 
the plover. It flies high and has a doleful, melancholy cry. The 
cayote (or coyote) is a small doglike animal, also known as the prairie 
wolf. Pronounced ki'ot here, as generally in the Southwest, but 
more correctly ki-o'tS. 

7. Cinched. Tightly secured or tied. The cinch is the broad, 
flank girth, but the cowboys call any girth a cinch. The verb is 
colloquial in Western slang, as is also the derived meaning of cinch, 
a firm grip, a sure thing. 

.17. Divide. In the west Texas or Abilene country there is a 
range of highlands known as the Callahan Divide. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) This lyric may be said to be composed of an initial impulse 
(the thought of the wild ride, stanza i), and its emotional develop- 
ment through a series of descriptive stanzas. Study out its plan in 



47^ Southern Literary Readings 

detail. (2) Notice how the rush of the wild, free race across the 
prairies is set forth in the opening stanza. Point out some of the 
lively phrases and comment on the effect of the word Hurrah! 
(3) What concrete images help to give a vivid picture of the cow- 
boy's riding equipment? (4) How does the last line of the third 
stanza help to give an emotional effect? (5) What is meant by 
"flowered Divide"? (6) What line from the first stanza is repeated 
in the last? This gives a distinct unity and finality or well- 
rounded completeness to the lyric. (7) Study the rime scheme of 
this effective stanza. The first line has no answering rime, but the 
third line makes up for this loss. How? The formula for the rimes 
may be expressed as follows: 

c 
a b c b. 

c 
Notice the rich sound effects of this scheme, and see if it is consist- 
ently followed throughout the poem. (8) The rhythm, a mixture 
of iambic and anapaestic feet, is also decidedly happy, giving a fine 
imitation of the galloping movement of the horses. Compare 
other famous poems on riding written in similar rhythms, as 
Browning's How They Brought the Good News from Gheiit to Aix. 

Old Fort Phantom Hill 

EXPLANATORY: 

5. Elm and Clear Fork. The names of two creeks which unite 
near Phantom Hill in Jones County, Texas, to form one branch of 
the Brazos River. 

11. Mesa, A small hill or elevated table-land in the plains. 
Pronounced ma'sa. • 

12. Ruins of the Old Fort Phantom Hill. Fragments of these 
ruins are still to be seen. 

13. The year of fifty-three. Lee was not sent to the Texas border 
service until 1856. He had previously served in the Mexican War, 
but no mention is made of his having stopped in Texas forts in those 
years. 

17. Northers. Cold north winds which sweep down across the 
plains. 

18. Labrador. Locate on your map of North America. 

21. Mesquite. A scrubby pod-bearing tree found commonly 
in the plains of Texas and California, and having beautiful compound 
pinnate leaves that spread out gracefully over the twigs. Pro- 
nounced mes-ket'. 

22. Old McKenzie Trail. General Reginald Slidell McKenzie 
was a Federal soldier who fought through the Civil War and was 
afterward stationed on the western frontier of Texas. He did 
efficient service against the hostile Indians, and often conducted 
parties across the plains under his protection. The old roadway 
across the Abilene country is still known as the McKenzie Trail. 

26. Taps. Taps is the military signal on trumpets or drums 
for lights to be put out. Here the reference is to the death of the 
heroes mentioned. 



The Notes 477 

27. Lee and Johnston, etc. Colonel Robert E. Lee was sent to 
the Texas border service in 1856. He established a chain of military 
forts on the western frontier to check the Indians, the center of his 
activities being Fort Cooper on the Brazos River. Colonel Albert 
Sidney Johnston was Lee's superior officer, but he was soon called 
into other service. Joseph E. Johnston was in this service, being 
under the command of Colonel E. V. Sumner. Captain U. S. Grant 
was for a while stationed at Jefferson Barracks on the Texas border 
service. Major Thomas J. Jackson, later known as "Stonewall," 
also was in the Mexican War, as were Grant, Lee, and others, but so 
far as the editor knows it is not recorded that Jackson was stationed 
at the Texas frontier forts. McKenzie and Custer, both generals 
in the Federal Army, were stationed in the Texas service later, 
and they no doubt were intimately associated with the fort at 
Phantom Hill. 

29. Blue and gray. A reference to the Federal and the Con- 
federate uniforms. Which three of the men mentioned in line 27 
were Federal and which three Confederate generals? 

32. This line is quoted from Tennyson's Locksley Hall. 

35. Peace on earth. See Luke, ii. 14. 

36. Swords are turned to ploughshares. See Isaiah, ii. 4. 

THO UGHT Q UESTIONS A ND LITERARY A NALYSIS: 

(i) The three twelve-line stanzas may be taken as the basis of an 
analysis. What does the opening stanza set forth? Notice the 
repetition of where at the beginning of every other line, and the 
concluding there with a definite statement of the place. (2) What 
topics do the second and third stanzas develop? Note the narrative 
of the supposed ghost-banquet, and the peaceful union of the blue 
and the gray. (3) Point out some of the best images in the descrip- 
tion of the prairie scene. (4) What images are brought out in the 
second stanza to increase the supernatural and weird effect? (5) 
Give brief sketches of the .leaders mentioned in line 27. Why 
are they supposed to gather at the old fort? (6) How is the peace 
now surrounding the old military fort shown? (7) Examine the 
eight-stress trochaic meter. The last light syllable is dropped 
uniformly for the sake of the rime. This is an exact imitation -of 
Tennyson's meter in Locksley Hall, as is evidenced in the direct 
quotation from this poem in line 32. Read some or all of Tenny- 
son's poem. 

"Shadow" 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This story was published in the Century Magazine for December, 
1906, having been rewritten from an earlier sketch called Vi etArmis 
which was published in a short-lived Georgia monthly about 1890. 
It is based on fact. The Hon. Sidney Trapp, formerly of Eatonton, 
Georgia, was the conimissioner ; the Hon. Joseph F. Johnston, now 
United States senator from Alabama, was governor of Alabama at 
the time; and Judge A. D. Sayre presided over the court which the 
three children so successfully stormed. 



4^8 Southern Literary Readings 

EXPLANATORY: 

12. Coal-mines. In northern Alabama, near Birmingham, 
Montevallo, and other cities. The state convicts are often leased as 
laborers to the owners of the coal mines. 

34. Others. That is, companions such as pain, sorrow, etc. 

43. Wetumpka. Locate the town. It is not far from Mont- 
gomery. The three children were the daughters of the Hon. Sidney 
Trapp, then Prison Commissioner of Alabama. They frequently 
accompanied their father on his inspection "f-ours. Shadow, a 
"trusty," was designated to take care of and amuse the children 
during one of these visits to Wetumpka, the town in which the 
state convict farm and penitentiary is located. 

102. Terrace and portico. The historic capitol of Alabama, 
situated on Capitol Hill, is reached by an ascending series of terraces 
from Dexter Avenue. What is the portico? 

104. Jefferson Davis. ^ Look up the history of the inauguration 
of the first and only President of the Confederate States of America. 

105. Cradle. The city of Montgomery is called "the cradle of 
the Confederacy." Why? 

141. Judicial ermine. The ermine is a small weasel-like animal, 
whose white fur with black markings is used as facings on the 
official robes of the English judges. The word is here used figura- 
tively for the office of the judge. 

158. ^ Pertinent and relevant. These are legal synonyms meaning 
pertaining or relating to the matter under discussion. 

246. Crenshaw County. Look it up in your geography. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What picture do you get from the opening paragraph? (2) 
Why is the word awake put out of its normal position? (3) How 
does the opening sentence of the second paragraph prepare us for 
the conclusion of the story? Is your sympathy at once aroused? 
(4) How old do you think the convict is at the opening of the story? 
How long has he been in prison? (5) What accident has befallen 
him in the coal mine? (See paragraph 3 for a hint.) (6) Study 
the structure of the third paragraph. Notice how it opens with a 
reversion to the thought of the opening paragraph, and how the 
explanation of what does not keep him awake is developed in a 
cumulative way so as to lead up to the climax, revealed in the very 
last word, of what does keep him awake. Is this last word effective 
in arousing interest as to the outcome? (7) Why is the reference 
to the cabin in the far-away Georgian hills effective? At what 
point in the story are this and other references in the paragraph 
further developed? (8) On what principle does the author choose 
names for the little girls? Contrast their names with the name 
given to the convict. (9) Why is Sunshine always named first and 
why is she given the most prominent part iu the later events of 
the story? (10) What traits in the negro's character are shown by 
his attention to the children? (11) What do the children promise 
Shadow, and what does he promise them? Is the plot hard to 
see through at any time after this? (12) On what day and at 



The Notes 4^^ 

what hour is the action of the story supposed to open? Where 
is this told?_ (13) Notice here the second reference to Hope. 
How does this unify the thought of the whole of the first part of 
the story? (14) Why is it necessary to make a break in the narra- 
tive at the point where the guard calls Shadow's name? This is 
technically called "reverting narrative." At this point the author 
goes back to tell all that has happened which would lead up to this 
calling forth of the convict from his cot in the prison barracks. 
(15) Can you form an idea from the way he treats his daughters, 
of what sort of man the prison commissioner is? (16) Relate 
the various obstacles overcome by the little girls in their efforts 
to gain the attention of the governor. (17) How does the governor 
know so much about the children's family? (The office of commis- 
sioner is appointive in Alabama.) (18) What effect does his refusal 
to pardon the convict have on the children? (19) How does the 
governor finally put the besiegers off? How does Sunshine force 
him to commit himself unconditionally? (20) Describe the entrance 
of the messengers into the crowded courtroom. (21) How does 
the judge comprehend the situation? Why does he laugh? (22) 
Picture the face of the lawyer for the defense as he watches the 
children. How does he take advantage of the situation? There 
might be some objection to this use of sentiment in determining 
the guilt or innocence of the defendant, but for artistic effect we 
may presume that the prisoner is innocent of the charge of murder 
and deserves to go free. (23) Explain the pun uttered by the 
governor when the children return to his office. What effect has 
this little touch of humor here just after the pathos of the scene 
in the courtroom? (24) Explain why Sunshine forgets her manners 
when she hands the governor his pen the last time. (25) Who 
delivers the message of his freedom to Shadow? Can you now 
easily connect the last scene with the guard's call for Shadow? 
(26) Why is it necessary to explain the hour? Do you think 
Shadow has ever doubted that his little friends would keep their 
promise? (27) Whatis the chief lesson to be learned from the story? 

The Vulture and his Shadow 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This lyric was first published in the Macon Telegraph. It attracted 
immediate attention, and has been called the most nearly perfect 
short poem written in the South in recent years. It is a marvel of 
imaginative power and lyric grace. 

EXPLANATORY: 

15. Eye of day. _ " 'The eye of day' is, of course, the sun, but 
the picture in my mind was the half -risen orb, and silhouetted against 
it, on an ocean plain, a floating speck (I have changed to mote for 
obvious reasons)." — H. S. Edwards. 

U Envoi. The conclusion or afterthought which emphasizes the 
main point of a poem or makes some specific application of the 
thought. It is from the French envoyer, to send; a sendoff, as it 
were. 



^So Southern Literary Readings 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) Who is supposed to speak in the poem? (2) What single 
thought seems to dominate? (3) Find the key word (or one of its 
derivatives) in each stanza, and see how this device unifies the poem. 
(4) What devices of repetition are used? (5) What is the result of 
this on the musical effect? (6) How do the images in lines 13 and 
15 connect with lines 17-20? (7) What is suggested in lines 21-24? 
(8) What imaginative effect is produced by the_ "double circles" 
in line 27? (9) How does the arrangement of rimes differ in the 
first and second stanzas and in U Envoi? (10) The rhythm of the 
poem is typically iambic, but there are numerous anapaestic substi- 
tutions. Point out some of these. 

The Old Water-mill 
INTRODUCTORY: 

The Old Water-millf one of the finest and most mature of Mr. 
Cawein's poems, first appeared in Myih and Romance in 1899. It 
is a nature poem; but it is more too, for it gives an almost complete 
picture of country life in northern Kentucky and southern Indiana 
close around Louisville; and in addition there is a notable character 
sketch at the close. The poem may properly be classed as an idyl. 
The tone is decidedly idyllic and easeful,^ and the style is in perfect 
harmony with the subject-matter. William Dean Howells admires 
it above all else that Mr. Cawein has written. He says, "But one 
[poem] which I value more because it is worthy of Wordsworth or of 
Tennyson in a Wordsworthian mood, is 'The Old Mill,' where, with 
all the wonted charm of his landscape art, Mr. Cawein gives us a 
strongly local andf novel piece of character painting." The Old 
Water-mill deserves to stand as a classic beside Whittier's Snow- 
bound and Goldsmith's Deserted Village. 

EXPLANATORY: 

19. Mistfiower. A plant of the aster family bearing clusters of 
blue flowers. Explain "blurs its bit of heaven." 

20. Oxeye. Another plant of the aster family, bearing heavy 
yellow flowers; note the poet's "gloaming lines of bronze and gold." 

26. Lapis-lazuli. A rich blue conglomerate mineral flecked 
with irregular golden streaks. Chrysoprase is a light green variety 
of chalcedony or quartz. 

74. A rufous instant. The flash of a red fox. Rufous rr.eans 
of a reddish or rust color, from the Latin rufus, rust. 

84. Crepuscular. Pertaining to twilight, dim, darlding. 

112. Curculio. A weevil or snout-beetle that attacks apples, 
quinces, and the like. 

113. Codling-moth. The moth that breeds the apple worm. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The real description of the old mill, beginning with line 98, 
comprises only twenty-five lines, about one-fifth of the whole 
poem; but this is the climax passage, and the old mill is in the poet's 
mind from the very beginning, being the central object in the 



The Notes 481 

country landscape which he depicts. To prove this point, let 
the student find in each stanza some direct reference to the old 
mill or some object associated with it. (2) Make a complete analysis 
in outline by stanzaic divisions. (3) Taking up the first stanza 
in detail, draw in your imagination pictures of the hills and cloud- 
like argosies, of the circling birds in the sky, of the gurgling creek 
with its minnows and kingfishers, its trees and flowers and dragon 
flies and cattle, and with it all the sound of the old water-mill. 
Notice the dreamy, happy, reminiscent tone of this beautiful land- 
scape. (4) How does the recollection of his childhood's experiences 
affect the poet? (This second stanza sets forth the Wordsworthian 
doctrine that the child becomes a part of the nature scenes of his 
youth. Let the teacher here read some of Wordsworth's poems, 
such as Expostulation, The Tables Turned, Lines Written in Early 
Spring, and parts of Tintern Abbey and Intimations of Immortality, 
for comparative study.) (5) Describe some of the scenes in stanza 
3, particularly the blackberry patches, the harvesting, the bird 
calls, the red fox, the home-coming holiday crowds. (6) Comment 
on the suggestiveness of the word spilled, line 80. (7) Explain 
the thought of lines 82-85. (8) Describe the making of maple 
sugar in the winter woods. (9) What is meant by "sleeted trees 
tossed arms of ice "? (10) Can you hear the sound of the ice falling 
on the frozen stream as you read "Tinkled the ringing creek with 
icicles"? (11) What is meant by "Thin as the peal of Elfland's 
Sabbath bells"? In a revision of the poem this line was changed 
to read "Thin as the peal of far-off elfin bells." Why is this a 
distinct improvement? (12) Have you ever seen the interior of an 
old mill? If so, compare what you have seen with the picture given 
here. (13) What did the neighbors talk about when they met in 
the old mill? Read in Goldsmith's Deserted Village a similar descrip- 
tion of a gossiping group at the village inn. (14) Describe fully 
the old miller, giving your conception of the kind of man he was. 
(15) Explain the personification in the last line. (16) The stanzas 
are of irregular length. In fact, they are not stanzas, but divisions 
according to topics much after the manner of paragraphs in prose. 
The iambic five-stress lines rime in couplets with occasional triplets. 
Locate five of these triplets in the poem. (17) The poem is full of 
good words for dictionary study. Spell and define the following, 
locating them in the text: vistas, argosies, placid, eery, sycamore, 
coruscating, raucous, censers, tasseling, insatiate, rufous, barbecue,, 
crepuscular, sugar-kettle, icicles, hypothesis, obliterates. 

Seasons 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This is one of Mr. Cawein's later productions, included in New 
Poems, published in London in 1909. It illustrates the finer formal 
excellence which the poet has been showing in his later poems. 

EXPLANATORY: 

6. Touched lips with Song. That is, the poet's lips with the music 
of verse. 

31 



482 Southern Literary Readings 

21. Phantoms . . . held tryst. Ghosts held secret meetings 
or conferences. Tryst is usually used of the place of meeting. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: ■ 

(i) Study the poem as to its structure, dividing it into two main 
divisions, and then subdividing so as to give the appropriate name 
of one of the four seasons to each of the four stanzas. (2) Study 
out the minute parallelism in the form of the two sets of stanzas. 

(3) Why does the poet speak of the forest's green heart? (4) 
Explain the force of the word dancing. (5) Are the personifications 
in stanza i appropriate to the season described? Explain. (6) 
Explain the references to Life, Truth, Birth, in stanza 2. (7) What 
does the sigh in stanza 3 suggest to your imagination? (8) Contrast 
the mist and cold lips and phantoms of this stanza with the birds 
and flowers and fire-filled beauty of stanza i% (9) Why is Death 
spoken of as a relief? (10) Explain why the spirit of Decay is 
Earth's glory and its grief. (11) Do you think a broader inter- 
pretation of the poem as a picture of man's life from birth and youth 
through manhood and old age is justifiable? Give reasons. (12) 
Determine the meter, rhythm, and rime scheme of the stanza. 
(13) In what tone should the first two stanzas be read? The last 
two? Indicate words that determine the two tones. 

Sounds and Sights 

INTRODUCTORY: 

This is another of Mr. Cawein's later poems, appearing in the same 
volume as Seasons, with which it should be compared. 

EXPLANATORY.- 

4. Flight of wing. Referring to the buzz of bees. Compare 
line 8 below. 

9. Steps of Love. Compare lines 3 and 7 of Seasons, where the 
same spirit of beauty in spring is also called Love. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) With the title in mind analyze the thought of the poem, 
dividing it into two sections with two parts each. (2) Study the 
perfect balance in thought and form, noting the exact parallelism 
of sentence and word. Even the punctuation throughout is almost 
identical in the balanced stanzas. The second stanza is an answer 
to the first, and the fourth to the third, and both are unified on the 
idea of beauty (loveliness). Notice also how the first and third 
stanzas are sealed in perfect unity and compactness by the use of 
the words, " Little leaves . . . little ears " and " Little buds . . . 
little eyes" at the beginning and end respectively. (3) What is the 
time of year represented? Is it constant throughout the poem? 

(4) Why are the comparisons of leaves and buds to ears and eyes 
good ones? (5) What is the effect of the epithet little? (6) In 
the last stanza a military figure is employed. Point out the military 
terms used. (7) The poem is trochaic in rhythm, and the lines all 
have four stresses, the light syllable being omitted in the last foot. 
Scan the poem to see if you can find any irregularities. (8) Study 



The Notes 48 j 

the rime scheme, noting particularly how the first two and the 
last two stanzas are tied together by the repetition of a rime sound, 
and how the first and last stanzas are also thus suggestively united 
by repetition of sound. 

Zyps of Zirl 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This ballad, or narrative poem, is based on fact. Maximilian I, 
Emperor of Germany from 1493 to 15 19, was extremely fond of 
hunting, and on one occasion in the Tyrolean Alps he climbed so 
high on the steep cliffs of Martinswand in pursuit of his game that 
for three days his life was imperiled because he had reached a place 
from which he could not possibly descend. He was finally rescued, 
after great toil and hazard, by a mountaineer, a bold and fearless 
climber. The romantic additions in the story as given in the poem 
are probably based on some German or Swiss legend. Mr. Cawein 
says of the ballad: "Zyps attracted me when I was a boy, and the 
story haunted me until I was about eighteen years of age, when I 
put it into verse, laid it aside, rewrote it ten or fifteen years after- 
wards, and published it." 

EXPLANATORY: 

I. Tyrol. Locate this province in the extreme western part 
of Austria. 

3. Inn's long water. The Inn rises in Switzerland and flows 
in a northeasterly direction, emptying into the Danube. 

15. Innsbruck. The chief city of the Austrian Tyrol, situated 
in the extreme northern part of the province. 

26 Abbot of Wiltau. Probably a fictitious name. 

27. Solstein. The massive Solstein is a stupendous and lofty 
rock belonging to the Martinswand range. 

36. Kaiser Maxmilian. Emperor Maximilian I, one of the 
great German emperors (1493-15 19). Spelled Maxmilian here for 
the sake of the meter. 

44. Eagle's lair. A lair is the den of a wild animal; we usually 
speak of an eagle's nesting-place as an aerie (pronounced S'rl), but 
by poetic license lair is here used for the sake of the rime. 

49. House of Hapsburg. A famous German princely family, 
taking its name from the Castle of Hapsburg on the Aar. It fur- 
nished rulers for the Holy Roman Empire as well as for many 
European states. 

58. Crampons. Climbing-spurs: a French word. 

61. Baldrick. An ornamental belt worn over the shoulders. 

63. Zirl. A little village near Innsbruck. It lies on the north 
bank of the Inn, and at a short distance from it to the northeast 
rises the massive Solstein. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: . 

(i) The subject-matter of a ballad or narrative poem, may usually 
be analyzed into a setting and the several movements of the action. 
Here the setting is beautifully elaborated in the first eight stanzas. 
The first movement of the narrative proper is Maximilian's chase 



484 Southern Literary Readings 

of the chamois as observed by the Abbot of Wiltau; the next is the 
emperor's fall, with the abbot's prayer. The next distinct move- 
ment is the approach of a mountaineer, Zyps of Zirl, to the rescue. 
The rescue proper may be called the last movement or climax. 
Follow this analysis through carefully, marking out just where the 
divisions fall in the poem. (2) Reproduce in your own words the 
beautiful Tyrolean landscape picture. (3) Tell the whole story 
in a prose essay of about three hundred words. (4) Locate on your 
map the principal places mentioned in the poem. (5) Why is there 
so much Roman Catholic coloring in the piece? (6) How did the 
emperor commemorate his rescue (see the introductory note), and 
what do you think he should have done for Zyps? (7) This poem 
is written in ballad triplets of anapaestic four-stress verse. There are 
a great many iambic substitutions, a license that is perfectly natural 
and allowable in ballad measures. Scan a few lines to note these 
substitutions. 

An Alabama Garden 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This is the opening poem in Mr. Peck's second volume, Rings and 
Love-knots, published in 1892. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) What sounds are heard in this garden? (Stanza i.) (2) 
What flowers are most frequently seen there? (Stanza 2.) (3) 
What senses are appealed to in stanza 3? (4) What is the influ- 
ence of the garden on the poet's mind? (5) What is his mood? 
(6) The meter is iambic four-stress triplets, with a three-stress line 
after each of the two triplets which make up the body of the stanza. 
Verify this analysis. (7) Where are feminine rimes used in this 
poem? 



The Grapevine Swing 
INTRODUCTORY: 

This is one of the finest and most popular of all Mr. Peck's songs. 
It has been set to music no less than a dozen times by as many 
composers. There is in the poem that richness of local color, that 
quaint and sincere sentiment, and that charming lilt characteristic 
of all Mr. Peck's work. 

THOUGHT QUESTIONS AND LITERARY ANALYSIS: 

(i) The first stanza is reminiscent of the poet's boyhood. It 
gives the locality or setting and introduces the character. The 
chorus expresses a longing for the happiness of the carefree life 
of his youth, and each succeeding chorus repeats this longing in 
slightly different words. The second stanza describes the delicious 
sensations in the boy's heart as he used to swing out over the lilies 
and back to the moss-grown tree. Follow this analysis through the 
poem. (2) Notice how each stanza ends with the idea of swinging 



The Notes 485 

and the image of the grapevine swing ; what is the effect of the con- 
stant repetition of this idea and the additional riming words required 
by the use of swing? (3) What picture do you get, in the first 
stanza, of the setting in which the swing is placed? What picture 
of the boy? (4) What additional elements of beauty and melody 
are added in stanza 2? (5) What is the mood or tone of the first 
two stanzas and what contrasted mood is developed in the third 
stanza? (6) Determine the rhythm of this poem. (7) Now com- 
pare the song as a whole with Simms's poem on the same theme, and 
say which one of the two pleases you the better. There is more of 
strength, virility, and imagination in Simms's poem, but more of 
grace, sweetness, and charm in Peck's. (8) Let some one sing the 
song in one of the better melodies to which it has been set, and, if 
possible, let the whole class learn the poem and sing it in concert. 



A PRONOUNCING LIST OP PROPER 
NAMES FOUND IN THE TEXT 



Achilles (d kll'ez) 

j Mthra or , ,,, .. 

\A-mra («*'^") 

Aidenn (a'den) 

Alamo (a'lamo) 

Anacreon (d nak'rfe on) 

Angostura (ag'gos too^rd) 

Apollo (dp6ro) 

Arcadies (ar'kd diz) 

Arcturus (ark tu'rws) 

Ashley (ash'li) 

Atlas (at'lds) 

Audubon (o'doo hon) 

Baccanalian (bak'd na'li on) 

Bonham (bon'am) 

Bowie (boo'i) 

Buena Vista (bwa'na ves'ta) 

Buonaparte (bo'ndpart)* 

Carroll (kar'wl) 

Chad (kad) 

Chattahoochee (chat'd hoo'^chfe) 

Chilowee (chil ow'e) 

Colbury (korberi) 

Colston (col'ston) 

Crenshaw (krSn'shd) 

Dennison (den'ison) 

Dorchester (d6r'ches ter) 

Diana (dian'd) 

Eggleston (eg' 'Iz twn) 

Elysian (elizh'dn) 

Esten (gs't'n) 

European (u'r6pe"an) 

Eutaw (u't6) 



Falco Starlen (farco starlen) 
Gilead (giredd) 
Giuseppe Caponsacchi 

(jdo sep'pa ca pon sak'ke) 
Golconda (golkon'dd) 
Goliad (go'liad'O 
Guido Franceschina 

(gwe'do fran'ches ke"na) 
Habersham (hab'er shdm) 
Hapsburg (haps'burg) 
Hasenpfeffer (haz'en pfef er) 
Helvyn (helVin) 
Hephcestus (hefes'tws) 
Hernani (er na'ne) 
Herod (her'wd) 
Houston (hus'twn) 
Huguenot (hu'genot) 
Innsbruck (ms'brook) 
Kildeer (kil'der'O 
Labrador (lab'rd d6r'0 
Lariodendron Tulipefera 

(lar e o den'dron tu lip i fer'd) 
Laurens (16'renz) 
Lazarus (laz'd vus) 
Legrand (le'graN') 
Lenore (16 nor') 
Magdalen (mag'ddlen) 
Magi (ma'ji) 
Manassas (mdnas'ds) 
Marcellus (mar sel'ws) 
Marion (mar'iun) 
Maximilian (mak'si mil"ydn) 
McKenzie (mdken'zi) 



[486\ 



A Pronouncing List of Proper Names 



487 



Melzi Chancellors 

(merzee chan'sel lors) 
Mendoza (men do'tha) 
Mesquite (mesket') 
Miraheau (me'ra'bo') 
Moultrie (mortri) 
Mozart (mo'tsart) 
Natchez (nach'ez) 
Nebuchadnezzar 

(neb'u kad nez"dr) 
Neils Gade (ne'els ga'de) 
Newfoundland (nu"fund land') 
Nymph (nimf) 
Olympus (6 lim'pzl^s) 
Ossian (osh'an) 
Pallas (pal'ds) 
Parnassus (par nas'ws) 
Pelham (pel'am) 
Perdenales (per de nal'es) 
Petrarch (pe'trark) 
Philantus (fl lan'tws) 
Philomel (fil'6 mel) 
Pluto7iian (ploo to'ni an) 
Pompilio Comparino 

(pom pil'e o com par e'no) 
Porphyrogene (p&r'fi r6j''e ne) 



Prospero (pros'per o) 

Rappahannock (rap'd han'wk) 

Ringgold (ring'gold) 

Rutledge (rut'lej) 

Sachem's Head (sa'chems hed) 

San Jacinto (san ja sin'to) 

Santee (san'te") 

Scarahceus (skar'a be"ws) 

Sheba (she'ba) 

Sofronie (so fro'ne) 

Solstein (sol'stin) 

Sumner (sum'ner) 

Sumter (sum'ter) 

Swammerdamm (swam'mer dam) 

Tampa (tam'pd) 

Tarentum (td ren'twm) 

Tarleton (tarl'twn) 

Tempe (tem'pe) 

ThermopylcB (ther mop'i le) 

Thetis (the'tis) 

Travis (trav'is) 

Tyrol (tir'61) 

Wetumpka (we tum'kd) 

Wiener schnitzel (ve'ner shnit'sel) 

Wiltau (wa'to) 

Zyps of Zirl (zips of zirl) 



Readers of Great Industrial and 
Geograpliic Interest 



THE STORY OF COTTON 

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RAND MCNALLY & COMPANY 

CHICAGO NEW YORK 



B 3 1913 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper p^cess. 
SLtralizing agent: Magnes.umOx,de 

Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

Cranberry TownsNp, PA 16066 



/79il^ 779-2111 



